Changing Fate
by Mrs Pettyfer
Summary: Our greatest weaknesses are our most dangerous enemies. Book 6 in Hermine's POV. Dramione
1. Departure

****Category: ****Harry Potter  
><strong><strong>Author:<strong> **Mrs Pettyfer**  
><strong>Title: <strong>**Changing Fate  
><strong><strong>Pairing(s): <strong>**Draco/Hermione, Ron/Hermione, Ron/Lavender, Harry/Ginny, Dean/Ginny  
><strong>Genre: <strong>Romance/Drama/Action  
><strong>Rating:<strong> T  
><strong>AN:** Hey guys! So long story short: this is a completed story. I wrote this over at HPFF but can no longer post stories on the site. (Which you probably noticed if you follow me there) If you want more details, you can always PM me. I decided to post it here, and especially hoped my loyal readers over at HPFF would find me. This story has a sequel, and I PROMISE you all will get it. I have not abandoned my readers. I want you all to know that. Getting to repost this story is actually a blessing, because I'm able to touch it up and catch things I might of missed. Now over the drama, and about the story:

This is my version of HBP (book 6) in Hermione's point of view, third person. I am keeping it close to HBP, but adding a lot of changes as well. I love the idea of Stephenie Meyer writing Midnight Sun, which is Twilight in Edward's POV. So that's what I'm doing here. Different perspective, but with new twists.

This is a Dramione but if you're looking for a story that jumps right into Draco/Hermione romance, this isn't it! This is 39 chapters that will allow relationships to slowly evolve into themselves. So be patient and enjoy! This story actually had over 900 reviews at HPFF so I'm hoping to top that over here! Think we can do it? Let's find out!

**Note:** The quotations in the prologue belong to J.K. Rowling, as do the characters and wonderful world of Harry Potter.

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><p>"We're all grieving,<p>

Lost and bleeding." – _The Only One_, Evanescence

**Prologue: The Unbreakable Vow**

In a dark and dingy cottage, two witches and one wizard stood at arms length, each grasping hands tightly. The thin blonde witch turned her attention to the tall, greasy haired wizard.

"Should it prove necessary…if it seems Draco will fail…" whispered Narcissa, "will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"

"I will," said Snape.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 : Departure<strong>

It was nearing midnight in the Granger household. The sky was a deep, jet black with few stars twinkling in the moonlight. The warm summer breeze ruffled the curtains of Hermione Granger's cracked window, causing a piece of manila parchment to drift off her desk onto the wooden floor. The parchment was a newspaper clipping from _The Dailey Prophet_:

_MINISTER RUFUS SCRIMGEOR: PICKING UP THE PIECES_

_Rumors have been flying about recent events involving the Ministry of Magic break in and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It has been confirmed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted, alongside several acclaimed Death Eaters; some of which were caught and immediately brought to Azkaban to await trial. For more information regarding the caught Death Eaters, see page 5._

_It was also confirmed that none other than Harry Potter—the only boy to survive the killing curse—was present, along with several other students from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The purpose of the break in is still unknown, but latest intelligence states the disturbance was involved in the unknown and rumored existence of the Department of Mysteries. It is rumored that prophecies are stored in the Department of Mysteries, but once again, we have received no comment or confirmation of such speculations._

"_I have no idea what you are talking about, and even if I did, I would not tell you," said Bob Hatcher, a Ministry worker late last night when confronted about the existence of the Department of Mysteries. If indeed the Department holds prophecies, what would He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named be searching for? Some say it regards Harry Potter; perhaps answering our question of whether or not Potter is The Chosen One—the only one able to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

"_We are doing everything in our power to take care of the situation," said the newly appointed Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeor. Mr. Scrimgeor had recently been the Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement before succeeding Cornelius Fudge. Fudge will remain as the Vice Minister of Magic and is currently (ctd. Page 4, column 3)_

The black printed ink on the news clipping was beginning to fade, as Hermione had read this article more than a dozen times, attempting to find hidden clues or messages within the words; something the Ministry of Magic was notorious for. Of course, the article contained some few facts, seeing as the _Prophet_ was bound to get something right every once in awhile.

It was true that not only Harry Potter had been present at the incident; Hermione had also been there, along with their other friends from Hogwarts: Ron and Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom. They had fought alongside Harry against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, also known as Lord Voldemort; and his followers, the Death Eaters. The article also had another correct speculation: The fight had begun in the Department of Mysteries.

Hermione could not agree on a more appropriate name. The Department was by far one of the strangest places she had ever been and certainly the most fearful. Rooms that made you forget the time. Giant glass cases filled with swimming brains. Hermione had fought for her life in that department. If it had not been for the Order, she and her friends would probably not have made it out alive.

A low purr caused Hermione to stir in her sleep. Her large, ginger cat Crookshanks was nestled at her feet on the bed, completely obviously to the chaos and fear in the wizarding world. As Crookshanks's purr increased in volume, Hermione's eyes snapped open in alarm and she sat up quickly, snatching her wand on her bedside table. She only had to blink twice for her eyes to focus, and she gazed around in anticipation, ready to spring up into a duel, only to find her room in perfect normality.

Books lay scattered across her desk, alongside stacks of parchment and new quills. Her plum walls were in a desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. Matching curtains ruffled the edge of the floor, and when Hermione breathed in the warm summer air, she noticed her window was cracked open. She slid out of her bed, careful not to irritate Crookshanks, and crept to the window, shutting it quietly.

She couldn't sleep with that sort of noise anymore.

Ever since the fight at the Ministry last year, Hermione found herself on high alert. Voldemort was gaining power, and the upcoming war was practically breathing down her neck. She found herself glancing around corners more often than usual; checking over her shoulder from time to time, just to make sure no one in a dark cloak was following her. These were, of course, advice sent out by the Ministry earlier this summer. But really, Hermione would have increased her protection anyway, just out of common sense.

After giving her room a double scan, she sighed and curled back in her bed, praying to have a dreamless sleep. She doubted that would happen—the maniacal laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange seemed to haunt most of them. You didn't encounter Bellatrix Lestrange and not remember it.

Several hours, and much too soon later, the bright sun shone through Hermione's window. The light seemed to slip through the curtains, glaring on her face and forcing her to wake. She opened her eyes and let out a loud yawn. She was fighting the urge to sleep an extra hour, but her need, and habit, to be up early was too much to resist. She would be departing from her home to go to the Weasley's before catching the train to Hogwarts. And today was the day.

With a quick glance at the purring Crookshanks, Hermione got out of bed. She moved a bit robotically from her room and into the bathroom across the hall. A nice warm shower was what she needed to begin her day. Her dream hadn't been of Bellatrix, but it hadn't been all too pleasant either: she had watched Luna and Ginny disappear through the Archway she had seen at the Department of Mysteries. No matter how much Hermione tried, she couldn't save them. They had been lost in the Archway forever.

She spent the next hair hour scrubbing away her bad dream. When she finished, she wiped the fog from the mirror and gazed at her reflection. She pulled a face ever so slightly. Sure, her brown hair was a bit less bushy and her front teeth were not quite as large, but ever since the battle last year, worry seemed the line her face, aging her ten years. And not in a good way.

She retrieved her wand from her bedside dresser and brought it to the bathroom before realizing she could not properly fix her hair. Not quickly or magically, at least. This thought alone caused her a groan of annoyance. Why couldn't she just turn seventeen already?

At sixteen, she was still considered an underage witch. An underage witch or wizard was not permitted to use magic at home until they became of age, which was seventeen in the wizarding world. She had a few more months to go before she could work freely with her wild hair at her own leisure.

She dressed quickly, and managed to braid her hair while it was wet, deciding she'd deal with it later. Mrs. Weasley could probably do something with it. Besides, she really needed to re-check her trunk and make sure she hadn't forgotten anything.

"Hermione Jean, I think you better hurry," called a voice from somewhere downstairs.

"Coming!" she called back in response. "I'm just double checking my list to make sure I have everything I need. Now where is my copy of _Hogwarts, A History_…I can't leave home without it."

She searched several boxes in her closet, digging deep for her favorite school book. Imagining a school year without seemed impractical.

"Hermione, this hairbrush keeps glowing bluer and bluer by the minute. I swear it does—you better get down here! It's really freaking me out."

Hermione smiled at her dad when she met his worried gaze at the top of the stairs: trunk under one arm and Crookshanks's cage in the other.

"Dad, calm down. I told you the portkey would start to glow before I leave, remember? It's just a warning."

John Granger eyed the hairbrush warily as though it would attack him at any minute. Muggles didn't deal with magic on a daily basis, and even though Hermione was the witch in the family, her parents were still a little leery on the whole magic business.

"Come here," said John, holding out his arms and relaxing.

Hermione didn't hesitate and let him pull her to his chest. John Granger was rather large and portly, once an athlete in his school days. He gave fierce, bone-crushing hugs, but at this point Hermione was used to them.

"Now—you be safe, okay? Your mother is sorry to miss you leave but she had to go to the office."

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were dentists that owned their own practice. They worked five to six days out of the week and rarely had any free time. Ever since Hermione had grown up, that free time had decreased even more. Hermione suspected it was because as parents they assumed a teenage daughter wanted alone time. But really, she wasn't an average teenager. Most teenagers don't fight for their lives on a yearly basis—or have a best friend that's hunted by the world's darkest and dangerous wizard.

Sometimes Hermione wanted to tell them of her adventures, but mostly she sugar coated them. Why worry them?

"It's okay, dad," she said with an understanding smile. "Tell her goodbye and I love her. I'll write you soon, of course."

She checked her watch, showing it to be 8:20 a.m. According to Mr. Weasley's plan, she had 2 minutes before the portkey would be ready. With 10 seconds to go, she placed Crookshanks's cage on top of her trunk and reached out to grip the glowing hairbrush. She smiled once more to her dad, whispering a final note of goodbye, before a strong pull from her navel whisked her away.

It happened very fast. When Hermione opened her eyes, she found she had landed in a large field under a magnificent apple tree. She looked around and saw a smiling Mr. Weasley. His fire red hair had thinned a little since the last time she saw him but his freckles were as prevalent as ever. He seemed to have aged more in the past few months but still held a note of childish joy on his face. His patchy cloak was wrapped loosely around his arms, and a bowler hat rested askew across his thinning hair.

"Hello Hermione," Mr. Weasley greeted pleasantly. "Nice time with the muggles?"

"Yes, thank you." Mr. Weasley reached for her belongings and she thanked him again. "It feels great to be back, though. Now I can actually fix my hair without using a hairdryer." Her musing wasn't meant to be said aloud but Mr. Weasley was beaming.

"Really?" He asked, with a look one might find on a child's face in a candy store. "A _hairdryer_. How does that function, exactly? Is it eclectic?"

Hermione had to hold back a laugh at the expression on his face.

"Next time I go home, I'll bring one back for you Mr. Weasley, and you can examine it yourself."

They had to walk the rest of the way on foot, and reached the Burrow around fifteen minutes later. The Burrow had been given extra protection—not allowing anyone to apparate or disapparate on the grounds. Harry would be coming to stay soon, and that required ample protection. He hated how special treatments were always made, but Hermione knew no one was bothered by it. She wasn't either, especially. Harry was the world's hope in destroying Voldemort, after all. But more importantly, he was her best friend.

"Hermione!" Ginny Weasley didn't give Hermione a chance to even look around the Burrow when she entered, instead pulling her into her second fierce hug of the day. "It's so good to see you."

"You too Ginny," Hermione replied, pulling back and smiling at her best girl friend.

Ginny had grown taller, passing Hermione an inch or two. Her long auburn hair shone in the catching sunlight. She was the only Weasley to have a sort of dark reddish hair rather than fire blazing like everyone else in her family. Her features were straight and perfect, but it was her fierceness and determination that truly made her shine.

"Let's put your stuff in my room," Ginny suggested. "Ron's outside de-gnoming the yard. Mum caught him using magic the other day and told him if he didn't have the yard de-gnomed by midday, she'd jinx his fingers together." She gave a loud, very not at all girly, snort of laughter.

Hermione couldn't hold back a laugh, knowing full well that Mrs. Weasley was probably not bluffing. Hermione could imagine Ron's reaction perfectly as he cursed under his breath, his ears burning scarlet.

She continued to smile at the thought as Ginny helped her up the stairs with her trunk. Hermione let Crookshanks out of his cage, deciding he probably wanted to wander freely for awhile.

Ginny's room was small, with cramped furniture and bright orange walls. Quidditch articles were stacked high across the tiny desk, and a comforter of the Holyhead Harpies rested on the bed. Hermione wasn't sure they could both _fit_ in Ginny's bed but they'd make it work.

After unpacking, the girls headed down downstairs for breakfast. Mr. Weasley was already sitting at the high end of the table, a cup of coffee in hand and the _Daily Prophet_ in the other. Hermione went to take a seat in one of the mismatched chairs when Ron came barreling through the back door, cursing loudly. His freckled face was covered in dirt, along with his robes and hands.

"Looking nice, Ron," said Hermione through a fit of giggles. Ginny was roaring with outright laughter.

Ron's face matched his hair but he smiled weakly. "When did you get here?"

"Just a bit ago, actually."

Before Ron could reply, Mrs. Weasley came scurrying into the kitchen, looking slightly disheveled. She caught sight of Hermione, and her expression warmed.

"Hermione dear, lovely to see you." She patted Hermione kindly on the shoulder before rounding on Ron, losing all friendliness. "And you are not finished Ronald Weasley."

"But I'm hungry," Ron grumbled, shuffling his feet.

"I don't care! You should have thought of that when you thought you could use magic. Now out! And wash up before you come back inside. You're dragging dirt into the house!"

Mrs. Weasley may not look very intimidating with her plump and cheery self and warm smile but anyone who knew her knew not to cross the line. Ron apparently, had been doing a lot of line crossing.

He looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Ginny was silently smirking, and Hermione had to bite her lip so she would not laugh. Mrs. Weasley turned her glare from Ron to smile at Hermione, as though remembering her.

"I'm sure you are hungry too dear," she said kindly. "What would you like for breakfast? Eggs? Toast? Sausages?"

"Eggs are fine, thanks Mrs. Weasley. "Hermione smiled and then turned her attention to Ron just as he was leaving.

"Wait, Ron!" she called after him. "Where's Harry? I thought he was arriving before me?"

"Should be here in a few days I reckon," Ron said, turning to Mr. Weasley for confirmation. "Right, Dad?"

"Yes, Dumbledore said he would arrive on Tuesday, after they…er, make a stop."

Mr. Weasley then decided to find something out of the window rather interesting.

Both Hermione and Ron looked at each other at the same time, completely puzzled.

"Dumbledore? Dumbledore is getting Harry from the Dursley's? Hah! I would pay ten galleons and a sneakoscope to see that!" Ron's laughter echoed inside the kitchen as he slipped through the back door.

Hermione had put a lot of thought to her best friend these past few weeks. During the battle at the Ministry, Harry had lost his Godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius was previously known as a massive murderer and the reason Harry parents were killed, according to the Ministry of Magic. This notion however, had been proven false by Hermione, Harry, and Ron.

Sirius had never betrayed James and Lily Potter to Voldemort—nor did he murder thirteen people in front of dozens of Muggles; another accusation he was charged with. The wrong doing was by Peter Pettigrew, on both counts; another past friend of James, Remus Lupin, and Sirius.

As it stood, Sirius would have been the only living person Harry could call his family. But Sirius's true story could never be revealed because Pettigrew had escaped. Sirius had to live in secrecy, and Harry barely got to spend any time with him before he was killed.

Hermione hadn't even had a proper chance to talk to Harry about Sirius. She knew he wouldn't want to—his nature was to hold back his emotions and things that bothered him—but she wanted to at least let him know she was there for him.

With a resigned sigh, she gazed out of the window, lost in thought, while Mrs. Weasley spooned several eggs onto her empty plate.

Okay first, thanksfor reading! I want to point outthat to me, one of the most important things withwriting this story is keeping the characters true to themselves. Rowling created fantastic characters and I want everyone tomy story is believeable, if that makes sense.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. This is a pretty short chapter-a bit informational but I want everyone to have a good mindset of where we are in the story. As I said earlier, this is already complete. I plan on updating two or three chapters a week, depending on the demand. :P I am having to re-read and edit the chapters, but updates will be quick. **

**Reviews are very much appreciated. It's very strange reposting this story, haha but hey, maybe it'll be worth it. If you are re-reading this from HPFF, please don't leave spoilers in reviews. :P You guys know what happens and if you give it away, I may just change some things around! Mwaha. **

**For HPFF readers: If you're wondering about Wanted, I will post it eventually if you want. Let me know. ;)**


	2. The Joke Shop

**A/N: Thank you guys for your support. It means a lot to me. =) Since the chapters at the beginning of this story were short, I'm going to combine some of them. This was actually 2 and 3 originally. ;) Enjoy!**

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><p>"Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things. They are but improved means to an unimproved end." - <em>Henry David Thoreau<em>

**Chapter 2 - The Joke Shop**

Over the next few days, Hermione debated not only if she should bring up Sirius to Harry, but if she did, how she would do it. She knew he would feel better if he could talk about it, but knowing Harry, that was the last thing he would want to do. Yet if he didn't talk about it, it would only eat him inside until he exploded. Sirius nagged at the back of her mind but she tried to enjoy her stay at the Weasley's without letting the past bring her under.

She had spent her days at the Burrow laughing with Ginny and Ron, watching them practice Quidditch in the orchard, feeding the chickens, and helping Mrs. Weasley around the house. The Weasley's didn't have a lot of money, but their hospitality was worth more than money could buy in Hermione's opinion. They were like her second family and their kindness spoke volume.

Fred and George Weasley, Ron's older twin brothers, were currently running their newly owned joke shop in Diagon Alley. Hermione loved Fred and George, but to her the idea of making a living off of a joke shop was, well, a _joke_. None the less, she agreed to visit the shop with the rest of the Weasley's since she needed to go to Diagon Alley anyway. Booklists would be arriving soon from Hogwarts, and Diagon Alley was the only place for school shopping.

On Hermione's fourth day she found herself wandering outside the Burrow, feeling no need or inclination to go inside. The warm summer breeze was refreshing, seeming to blow away all her frustrations and worries. She could smell a sweet mixture of roses and apples, probably wafting from the nearby orchard. Essentially she found it much more pleasant to be outside with the warm air and sweet aroma than inside the Burrow. Bill, the oldest Weasley son, had brought his new _fiancé_ home to meet the family and let's just say it reminded Hermione of her fourth year when she had to care for Hagrid's blast-ended skrewts. No, Bill's fiancé wasn't a blast-ended skrewt by any means, but just about as pleasant.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a loud _bang!_ She froze mid step and looked back quickly at the crooked house, grabbing her wand from her pocket out of instinct. A flash of red—Ginny was storming out the front door, looking furious as ever.

"HERMIONE!" the redhead shouted loudly, scanning the yard. "Where are you?"

Hermione wasn't sure if she really wanted to know what Ginny wanted. Quite frankly, the Weasley's only daughter could be very frightening. Still, she was one of Hermione's best friends. Tentatively, Hermione approached from the chicken coup.

"Ginny? Is everything okay?"

"I REFUSE to be left in that house with HER for another minute!" Ginny was shaking. Literally shaking in rage.

"Oh no," Hermione sighed, "what happened now?"

"Bill got mad because I accidently dropped a Nosebleed Nougat on his _royal highness_! It's not like anything happened; a bit of puss squirted out, but that's it! I dropped it from the upstairs landing. How would I know she was standing directly below on the bottom floor?" Ginny's words came out in a rush, and she took a deep breath before continuing. "If I wanted to do something vile I would definitely be more creative than that! I mean Merlin, he could give me a little credit."

Despite Ginny's apparent frustration and anger, Hermione laughed harder than she had since the time she arrived, imagining the moment being similar to seeing Professor Umbridge bombarded with fireworks in their previous year.

Ginny stopped glaring and cracked a smile. "You should have seen her face," she said sadistically.

"I'm sure it was rather priceless." Hermione had to wipe under her eyes. "I'm sorry for leaving you in there with _her_. I just needed some fresh air. She drives me mad as well. I don't know what Bill sees in her. Well…_one thing _I guess."

Both girls made a disgusting face.

Hermione continued, "I've just been thinking a lot about Harry lately. He's just been through so much, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Ginny frowned. "I can't get him off my mind either—" She cut herself off abruptly and tensed. She cast Hermione a nervous look, seeming a little embarrassed.

Hermione smiled reproachfully. "Ginny, you really need to talk to Harry. Honestly the boy is completely clueless. If he knew you how you felt…if he knew you li—"

"Well, I should get back inside," Ginny interrupted. "I need to write Dean."

"Dean?" Hermione blinked. "Oh Ginny honestly, I'm starting to think I'm going to have to intervene between you and Harry. This is just getting ridiculous."

"Harry dated Cho," Ginny replied a bit dryly. "No reason I can't date Dean."

"Harry dating Cho was a joke and you know it," Hermione pointed out. "He thought she was pretty, but they had nothing in common."

"Look, it doesn't even matter, alright? If Harry cared for me he would have showed it by now. End of story."

"Of course he cares for you! He fought a Basilisk to save your life!" said Hermione breathlessly.

Ginny's face fell and Hermione instantly regretted bringing up the Chamber of Secrets. It was a rough subject for the Weasley's.

"I shouldn't have said, Ginny. I'm sorry." Hermione stared at the ground, feeling terrible.

"No, it's okay." Ginny gave a weak smile. "It's just not something I like to remember, even though it's nearly impossible to forget. But you're right: I know he obviously cared and I owe him my life for what he did. I just meant he doesn't care, you know, the _other_ way."

"That's only because he hasn't thought about it." Hermione laughed softly. "Harry doesn't exactly put a lot of emphasis on girls. He can't, really. Not with saving the world."

"That's true." Ginny twisted her long hair into a pony tail. "I've always had trouble seeing him as the Boy-Who-Lived after meeting him, ironically."

Ginny turned to go back into the house, deciding she couldn't very well avoid Bill forever. She sighed before opening the front door, but held her shoulders back in that strong way of hers.

Hermione always an expert on love by any means, but deep down she truly wanted Harry to realize how amazing Ginny was for him. She had been a very shy little girl growing up, but through the years gained more confident. That confidence brought out her appealing traits. She wasn't just another pretty face. She was fierce and loyal. She had a strong sense of humor, and was very laid back. Hermione was jealous of Ginny sometimes, wishing she could relax a bit more and not worry so much. Ginny was stable, comforting, and familiar to Harry.

Hermione knew one day he would realize this and come around. Maybe he already had, but didn't want to pursue her yet. Till then, he was stuck being _the chosen one_ and saving the world.

After a few minutes of exploring unchartered waters of her best friends and their romantic potential, Hermione decided not to leave Ginny alone with the future Mrs. Weasley. She went inside with a little reassurance, knowing Harry would arrive the following afternoon.

Hermione awoke early the next morning to a flash of red and Ginny poking her in the side.

"Hermione, get up! Harry's here."

Hermione blinked several times to focus. Ginny's red hair seemed to magnify when the light hit it, making it look more like the typical Weasley color. It also happened to blind Hermione temporarily. Crookshanks hissed ever so slightly and curled up on her pillow.

"Okay, I'm getting up." She yawned and gave Crookshanks a loving pat. "Did you tell Ron?"

"Yeah, he's waiting outside the door so we can surprise Harry. Apparently he arrived late last night or…well… early this morning. Either way."

Hermione got dressed quickly and met Ron with Ginny outside Fred and George's room. At that moment, they heard Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"Ginny! Come down and help with breakfast."

There was silence. Ginny looked at Hermione reproachfully and pointedly pretended not to hear. Maybe if they didn't make any noise, Mrs. Weasley would think they were outside—

"NOW!"

Ginny sighed. "She just doesn't want to be alone with _phlegm_." Glaring the entire way, she made sure to stomp loudly down the stairs.

Hermione felt bad and wanted to help her friend but the desire to see Harry was too overwhelming. She made to open the door softly, when Ron practically took it off its hinges as he burst through.

Harry jumped from under the covers. "Heywuzzgoinon?" he blurted out sleepily.

"Mum just told us you're here!" exclaimed Ron. "We didn't expect you till midday."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "You knew he was sleeping!"

Harry slid on his glasses and his eyes focused on the two standing before him. He cracked a grin in obvious recognition.

"Yeah, well, here I am."

Hermione tried to return his smile but couldn't help but stare at him as though he was on his deathbed. He was still cheerful after everything that happened in the previous year. He looked the same as the year before, with messy jet black hair and brilliant green eyes. A bit skinny perhaps, but Mrs. Weasley would fix that.

Catching the expression on her face, Harry regarded her warily. "How are you…Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine. And you?" She took a seat on the edge of his bed, still staring at him more intently than necessary. He seemed to notice and replied coolly,

"Great—a bit hungry, though. Have you two eaten already? What time is it?"

Ron laughed. "Don't worry. Mum will bring you a tray. She didn't want us to wake you but we wanted to know what you were up to with Dumbledore." His tone implied that he had been dying to ask from the moment he entered the room.

"Nothing too exciting. Just helped him persuade an old teacher to come out of retirement," said Harry.

"Oh yes, we will need a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, now that Umbridge is gone," said Hermione, brightening up a bit. "Who is he and what's he like?"

"His name's Horace Slughorn," said Harry. "He's alright I s'pose. Looks a bit like a walrus. He never stops talking about his past students that grew up to be famous. He seems to like the ambitious type. I'm sure he'll love you, Hermione."

Hermione blushed and smacked Harry lightly on the arm, "Oh stop it," she mused.

Ron was about to comment when suddenly Ginny walked through the door, looking rather sulky. Her expression changed when she noticed Harry.

"Hi, Harry." She smiled and sat on the end the bed next to Hermione.

"What's wrong with you, Ginny?" Ron asked. "You look like hell."

"Thanks Ron," Ginny replied tartly. "And as if you couldn't guess, it's _her."_

By the way she emphasized the word "her," Hermione knew exactly who she was talking about. It seemed _her_ was Bill's fiancé's new name these days.

"I know." Hermione sighed. "She thinks if you're not looking at her, you're looking in the wrong direction."

"Hey now, she's not so bad around the house," piped up Ron. He looked mildly insulted. "She pulls her share."

"Oh okay, sure. Don't say anything bad about _her_ because you sure can't get enough." said Ginny angrily.

Hermione nodded in agreement as Harry began to ask "Who are you talking about" but the question was answered when the princess herself came willowing through the door. And yes, _willowing_ was probably the best way to describe it.

Hermione was too busy glaring at Fleur Delacour to notice Harry yank the sheets up, causing her and Ginny to fall to the floor. She scrambled up, cursing under her breath to see Fleur smiling broadly around the room, as if she was just announced in a beauty contest.

It couldn't be denied that Fleur was beautiful. She had long, straight, white blonde hair and a slim pale figure. She was wearing a willowy plum gown that tied around her neck. Her teeth were perfectly white and straight when she smiled, and she had sparkling blue eyes that glittered like ice. Beautiful she might be, but humble and pleasant she was not.

She spoke in her well attuned French accent.

"Arry, eet eez so good to see you again. I ave been waiting to see you for some time. Here, I ave brought you some eggz, bacon, an toast. I did not know your favorite and 'ad to guess."

Fleur smiled so radiantly, so clearly proud of herself, that Hermione and Ginny were both glaring at her. And who were now both, for the record, standing with their arms crossed by the door, clearly indicating that it would be fine for Fleur to now leave since her job was done.

"I eard you ave not been n'formed, but I wanted to be the first to tell you the news." Her smile, if possible, grew wider. "Bill and I arr to be married!"

Shock flashed across Harry's face, though he tried quickly to change it.

"That's…great Fleur. Er…congratulations."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the look on Ron's face as he stared at Fleur. He seemed to be two years old, opening presents on Christmas day. Ever since fourth year, he had had an unrealistic crush on Fleur Delacour, the champion from Beauxbatons.

"Yes, eet eez wonderful. Of courz you will be zair." Fleur kept her eyes trained on Harry.

"Yeah, of course. Wouldn't miss it for anything."

Hermione decided this was enough, and coughed rather pointedly. "Harry, you need to get ready. We have a lot we need to do."

"Yes, Hermione is right," Ginny added.

Ron snapped out of his fantasy. "Like what? What stuff?"

"Like wiping your mouth, you disgusting git," replied Ginny scornfully.

Ron's face was a deep shade of red when the two girls left the bedroom. They walked upstairs, still muttering to themselves. Once Hermione got in Ginny's room, she decided it was a good time to start unpacking her trunk. She started pulling out pieces of clothing, as Ginny had made a little room in her closet. Hermione's fingers slipped on a soft camisole and it fell to the ground. She bent down to pick it up—and saw a small canister under the bed. Silver and shiny, like a miniature telescope. Curiously, she lifted it to her face and took a peek—

It punched her square in the eye.

"Argh!" Hermione screamed out in pain, dropping the canister to the ground.

Ginny whirled around. "What is it?"

"This...this _thing_…it just punched me!" Hermione faced the mirror and let out another shriek "Ginny, my eye! Look at my eye!"

Her left eye was blackened. Not even like a black eye after a fight—no. This looked like someone had painted a perfectly black circle around her eye. She stared at Ginny in horror.

"Here, let me see that, Hermione." Ginny looked like she was holding back a laugh. She walked over to scrutinize the fallen canister. "Yep, just what I expected. It's one of Fred and George's. Here, let's go downstairs and Mum will put it right in no time."

"Ginny, I can't go anywhere like this." Hermione's voice had taken on an edge of hysteria. "Look at me! Look at my eye!"

By the time Harry and Ron came into the room—they had heard Hermione's frantic shouting, apparently—she was verging on choking and screaming. Before they could properly spot her eye, she threw herself onto the bed and buried her face under the covers with a shout, "Go away!"

"What happened?" Ron asked, aghast.

Hermione heard Ginny whispering what happened to both Harry and Ron. She wasn't shocked to hear Ron laughing hysterically. Before he could personally harass her, she wrenched herself from the sheets and took off down the stairs, praying to meet no one else on her way to Mrs. Weasley—her only hope.

To her luck, Mrs. Weasley was alone in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from breakfast with her wand.

"Mrs. Weasley, I was punched in the eye by one of Fred and George's _wonderful _inventions. Could you please try to get the blackness to go away?" Hermione asked anxiously.

Mrs. Weasley swelled with momentary anger.

"Those rotten boys—leaving inventions lying around the house! Surely they would expect someone to pick it up?" She shook her head and stared at Hermione, deflating in anger. "Ah well…Yes, of course dear. Let me find my healing book."

Hermione sighed. What she would give to duel Fred and George right about now. If these were the kind of things they were inventing at the joke shop, she wanted no part of it.

Mrs. Weasley returned with her wand and an old and battered copy of _The Basic Healing Guide for Household Injuries_. Hermione stood very still, eyes closed tightly, while she muttered incantations with her wand. To Hermione's annoyance, she heard approaching footsteps. The loud and clumsy steps could only belong to Ron.

"How's it going?" he asked, clearly fighting back a laugh. Harry looked less amused.

"Hmm," Mrs. Weasley began, "I can't figure it out. I can't vanish it, transfigure it, or even change its color. I'm sure Fred and George will have a solution once we visit them today after we receive your letters and O.W.L. results."

Hermione jumped out of her chair with a look of panic and anxiety on her face. "WHAT? Our results are coming today? _Today_? Why hasn't anyone told me? Did you

know?" she demanded. "Did you know, Ron?"

He looked around skeptically. "Umm…no. Of course not."

Hermione began pacing the kitchen with her right hand on her temple. She pushed the black eye to the back of her mind. Who cared about a black eye when O.W.L. results were coming…today! She barely registered Harry's look of worry for her sanity.

"I'm worried about Ancient Runes and Transfiguration…" Hermione said breathlessly. "Oh no. Oh nooo. I know I've done dreadful. They're going to chuck me out because my scores will be too low to continue!" she bellowed out dramatically, throwing herself into a chair and burying her face in her hands.

"Oh shut up, Hermione," said Ron, looking annoyed. "Act like you won't have every single O.W.L. be an Outstanding."

Before she could retaliate, three owls swooped through the kitchen window, silencing any retort she might have. She gasped, and watched them land at their destination: one for her, one for Ron, and one for Harry.

Hermione's owl was a large barn owl with beady black eyes. It held out its leg and she retrieved two pieces of rolled up parchment. After tucking her Hogwarts supply list away, she took the second letter and began to read her results off in a corner away from everybody else.

_**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**_

Pass Grades Fail Grades

Outstanding – O Poor – P

Exceeds Expectations – E Dreadful – D

Acceptable – A Troll – T

_**Hermione Jean Granger has received:**_

Ancient Runes O

Arithmancy O

Astronomy O

Care for Magical Creatures O

Charms O

Defense Against the Dark Arts E

Herbology O

History of Magic O

Muggle Studies O

Potions O

Transfiguration O

She read her results four times, quite pleased. She had a feeling she might get an 'Exceeds Expectations' in Ancient Runes and was overjoyed to find an 'Outstanding.' She knew both Harry and Ron would be lucky to scrape more than one 'Outstanding' so she began to fold her report when Ron suddenly grabbed it from her hand.

"_RON_!"

"I just wanted to see how you did. Calm down Hermione," said Ron, scanning the report. "Yep, look at this Harry." He held out the results for Harry to see. "Ten 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations.' What a surprise."

Hermione hastily snatched back her results and tucked it into her pocket. She made a mental note to write to mom and dad later—they would be proud.

"Well, now that your booklist is here, I suppose we better take a trip to Diagon Alley," said Mrs. Weasley. "Harry, your birthday's tomorrow. Let's celebrate in the Leaky Cauldron tonight, shall we?"

"It's okay, Mrs. Weasley, you don't have to do anything," said Harry, looking a little embarrassed.

"Perfect. Tom will take care of all the cooking so I won't be doing a thing," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile. Her eyes wandered the kitchen, and the smile vanished. Hermione followed her gaze.

She was staring at the Weasley family clock.

The clock had nine different hands, each engraved with a different member of the Weasley family. Instead of numbers around the face, possible places the Weasley's might be were shown, such as _home_ or _work_. Mr. Weasley's hand was pointed at "work," while everyone else's pointed to _mortal peril_.

It really was dark times, wasn't it?

"Will Mr. Weasley be coming with us?" Hermione asked Mrs. Weasley, hoping to distract her.

"Yes, I think it is quite necessary we take precautions." She glanced at Harry from the corner of her eye, who in return, stared at his feet. Hermione knew it bothered Harry how much people had to risk in order to keep him safe. He wasn't used to people caring for him; something he missed out on while growing up at the Dursley's.

Later that evening, Mr. Weasley returned from the Ministry and everyone was bustling around the house before departing to Fred and George's shop. Hermione nearly forgot about her eye, and decided she'd try to cover it up with make-up the best she could. She gave up on that prospect after about ten minutes, since the make-up dissolved and faded away every time. Of course part of Fred and George's joke would be to have no way of concealing it. She sighed in defeat and walked downstairs. Bill had already left for work but Fleur was waiting by the front door with a smile on her face.

"Arry, we will see you for your birthday dinner," she said, while giving Harry a hug. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"Alright, we were going to have the Ministry cars but…I decided we would apparate to save time." It was obvious by Mrs. Weasley's expression she wanted the cars. "I have taken off the enchantments that allow us to apparate temporarily. Molly and I will take you each one at a time to the Leakey Cauldron, where Hagrid will be waiting and we will meet in Flourish and Blotts."

Hermione smiled. She had missed Hagrid.

The first to go were Mr. Weasley and Ginny, along with Mrs. Weasley and Ron. When they popped back into the living room several minutes later, Mrs. Weasley escorted Hermione and Mr. Weasley took Harry. Hermione had never been taken on side-along-apparition before. Once Mrs. Weasley turned, it felt like she was being squeezed threw a tiny bottle. Her ears pounded, breathing was difficult, and it was rather uncomfortable. She was relieved it didn't last long. She opened her eyes to see the large and bearded Rubeus Hagrid. Twice the size of a normal man, he looked quite large in the ordinary hotel room.

"Hi Hagrid, how are you?" Hermione asked happily.

"Not so bad. Been keepin' busy 'round the school. I s'pect yer glad to be back, eh?"

"Oh yes," Hermione began, "I love my family but not being able to do magic is pure torture."

Hagrid chuckled and gestured that they move on. They had apparated to a room in the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione did not see anyone else in their group, so she assumed they had already gone through the barrier to Diagon Alley. She, Mrs. Weasley, and Hagrid left the room and traveled down the stairs, heading towards the back of the bar, which contained the secret entrance to Diagon Alley.

Hagrid tapped the bricks on the wall with his pink umbrella, and an entrance appeared in the bricks. Once they stepped through to Diagon Alley, the sight was shocking. The streets were deserted and what customers were left rushed quickly from shop to shop, as if they were expecting a bomb to be dropped out of the sky at any moment. Hermione had never seen Diagon Alley look so…_dead_. Several shops were boarded up and posters were attached to the windows, each showing a different Death Eater. Hermione glanced up at Hagrid uneasily, whom looked rather solemn.

"Oh dear," sighed Mrs. Weasley, glancing around the cobbled streets.

"Well, s'pose we should get a move on," said Hagrid, gloomily.

Hermione was relieved the rest of their group made it all in tact at Flourish and Blotts and they didn't linger too long before walking towards Fred and George's shop.

As they passed shops and boutiques—some open for business, some closed—something sparkly caught Hermione's eye. She paused. In the window display of Madam Lottie's, there sat a half moon silver mask, sparkling with tiny diamonds. It was covered with silver lace and Hermione thought it looked like something a queen would wear during a dinner party. Harry saw her hesitation, but when he asked what was wrong, she simply shook her head and said they ought to catch up to the group.

He frowned, glanced back at the shop, and ran after them, just as Mrs. Weasley chastened him for falling behind.

An hour later, Hermione was sure Mr. Weasley had copied down the wrong address because they _still_ hadn't found the joke shop. Ron's tenth complain was finally answered though, when they found a shop lit up in colors. It wasn't dead looking like most of the other shops, but alive and vibrant. The sign that hung read: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Hermione followed behind Harry and gasped when she stepped over the threshold.

There were three floors full of merchandize. Airplanes were flying themselves threw the store. Tiny, colorful puff balls danced in the window. The store was crowded with customers wall to wall and the sound of tinkling and clinking of objects with an occasional burst of smoke filled the room.

Hermione weaved through the crowd toward the front desk and was met with a familiar face: Lee Jordan.

"Hi Lee, I was wondering where Fred and George are?" Hermione asked. "I have a bone to pick with them."

Lee laughed. "Nice eye, Hermione! Self Punching Telescopes—big seller on level two. Anyway, George is right over here. Let me get him."

Hermione greeted George with a scowl when he appeared a minute later.

"Sorry Hermione, we sometimes leave our experiments lying around," said George apologetically, fighting a laugh.

Hermione sighed. "It's fine. My curiosity got the better of me. Do you have something to clear it up?"

"Hold on," said George. "Let me grab the right bottle."

He appeared a moment later, handing over a small, clear bottle. "Use this. It's a special cream that will take it straight away. I'll even let you pick something out from the store for being a test subject, free of charge." George smiled and patted Hermione on the back before disappearing back into the crowd.

She was relieved to find the ointment worked perfectly. The bruise faded immediately, leaving no trace of the punching telescope. Hermione left the lavatory with a bit of pep in her step, the day brightening tremendously.

She spotted a brightly lit section on the first floor that caught her eye. Propped on a large, pink shelf was an arrangement of hair and makeup supplies. They had potions to make your hair grow as long as you want and lip plumper that literally made your lips more luscious. Hermione found a box containing an anti-frizz potion. She bit her lip and began reading the ingredients and instructions. She turned the box over to read the price: two galleons.

_Hmm, _she thought to herself_, this would be worth the black eye._ She put the box down and glanced out the window absentmindedly—

She jumped, surprised to see a pair of liquid silver eyes staring right back at her.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading! Just want to respond to a few questions/comments:**

**Alenerien: "The only thing I'm sad about is that I was looking for your next chapter of the sequel to this story."** - I KNOW! It kills me too. It's just that the sequel makes no sense if people haven't read CF first. Which is why I'm going to try to post it quickly. Thank you so much for following me! It really is the reason I'm still writing..for you guys.

**Gin-gin06: "And what do you man aout chaning it?" "And if you need begging for Wanted heres some major knee groveling."** - I meant if people give away spoilers, I might change something to be evil, haha. And I will post Wanted..it's just going to be a few weeks I'm afraid. I need to get this going first-39 chapters to make up! Blah. lol Sorry for scaring you..it scared me too when I found out. lol Thanks for sticking with me!

**jazzy4ever: "Can't wait for these 'changes'."** - I should say I'm not sure if these changes will be HUGE. Minor adjustments in the dialogue most likely. And cleaning up the writing. But if an idea hits, I might go with it. :P Ending will be the same though..rest assured. Just don't tell it! haha Thanks for the support jazzy!

**xXxtellmewhyxXx: "Well, I love your writing so I'm excited to see what this story's all about."** - Thank you! Yes! I haven't had a newbie to this story in awhile, haha. I hope you enjoy it!

**madluv: "I'm so happy you're posting this again!"** - Me too. At first I was like 'ughh' since it was complete, but this gives me a chance to make it better. More improved, if you will. Thanks for sticking with me and reading it..again! lol

**For those who HAVE read this story..if you ever have a question that's a spoiler, please message me rather than asking in a review. ;) Thanks!**


	3. Deception

**A/N: Woo next chapter! Hopefully I'll have the next one up a little faster. Classes started so I'm a little busy. Blah college. Anyway, I just noticed how much Robert Frost's poem I placed at the top fits this chapter and story. For those who know what happens, isn't this poem so true regarding this chapter and Hermione in general? =)**

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><p>"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,<br>I took the one less traveled by,  
>And that has made all the difference." - <em>The Road Not Taken<em>, Robert Frost

**Chapter 3 - Deception**

Hermione would recognize those eyes anywhere. Cold as ice yet filled with a fiery heat. They were the eyes of a snake, the enemy: the eyes of Draco Malfoy. Malfoy was a boy in her year—a Slytherin to boot. Slytherins and Gryffindors were natural enemies since the beginning of Hogwarts. If there was one person Hermione could think of that she disliked most at school, it would definitely be Draco Malfoy. Proud. Arrogant. Foul. Prejudice. He was every bit of everything she hated. And she was sure the feelings were mutual.

So it came to her as a bit of a surprise when she stared back at him, because he didn't look anything like the boy she had grown up to know.

Malfoy's trademark sneer was replaced with emptiness. There was no expression what so ever on his pale and pointed face. He simply stared at her, void of emotion. He held her gaze a few seconds before turning away. She had to blink several times, just then becoming aware of how teary her eyes can become from not blinking.

_What was that about?_ she thought wildly. Her curiosity escalated by the second. What was wrong with him? Was he ill?

A sudden impulse shook her from the inside. Maybe it was running around so much with Harry and the Weasley's that they were rubbing off on her. Maybe it was her own general curiosity. Or maybe she didn't know why. For whatever reason, and knowing she would probably regret it later, she dashed out of Fred and George's shop. She could just make out Malfoy's pale blonde hair in the distance, his inky black cloak trailing along the cobblestone street.

"Malfoy?"

Either he didn't' hear her or he was choosing to ignore her. She had to catch up to him and call out his name two more times before he finally turned around.

When he did, Hermione couldn't help noticing that like Ron, a tremendous growth spurt. Malfoy was practically drowning in a sea of black—a solid black suit and matching long cloak, fastened with a serpent pendant at the collar. The complete darkness of his attire clashed with his pale face, making him look frozen and cold. His blonde hair, so normally slicked back, had grown out a little and had a sort of messy look to it. As Hermione took in his appearance, his usual sneer appeared across his face, but his eyes continued to look empty.

"Is it a crime to look in a shop, Granger?"

Something about that particular statement confused her. Or more accurately, made her curious. "But you weren't looking in the shop. You were looking at _me_." She let her head tilt to the side, staring at him like he was a particularly interesting ingredient in potions class. She just wasn't sure what it was, or why she was staring, or why she had followed him.

He didn't seem to like this scrutiny, because a contemptuous look twisted his face. "Granger, you are more or less correct," he said. "Yes, I was looking at you, because I was looking for a filthy Mudblood." He cracked a grin. It wasn't a pretty one. "And look, I found one."

He gestured to her with a very satisfied look. She had grown used to this horrible nickname; one of the foulest names you could call someone like her, someone with Muggle parents. And yet even still, the name made her blood boil. It was judgmental and prejudice and wrong. Dare she think it, but she held the highest scores in her entire class at Hogwarts. Insulting her as a person, and her intelligence, was ridiculous.

"And why would you be looking for a Mudblood, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, determined not to lose her temper. "Trying to round them up for Voldemort? Do him a favor?"

It happened very quickly. Malfoy's gloating smile vanished and twisted into something of contempt and hatred. His light eyes looked darker than ever and Hermione was actually surprised he didn't wince at the name 'Voldemort' like most people did. There was something in his eyes, something dark and cold and somehow _knowing_. She couldn't explain it—only that this Malfoy wasn't the same as the year before. Something was different and truthfully, she didn't know what to think about it. Still, she held her ground. She wasn't going to let a Slytherin push her around. Especially Malfoy.

"You have no idea what you're in for someday, Granger," he said, taking a step forward. "You and your blood traitors and stupid, _Potter_," he spat.

Hermione glared at him with as much hatred as she could rally. What was _that_ supposed to mean? Was he actually threatening her and her friends? Before she could say anything in response, a striking female approached from behind Malfoy. Hermione noticed the same pale, pointed face, but her eyes were a piercing blue and her light blonde hair was slightly above her shoulders, curled tightly. Even if Hermione hadn't met her before, she could easily recognize this woman as Malfoy's mother, Narcissa. Hermione had been introduced to her somewhat at the Quidditch World Cup two years previous, though this time Narcissa didn't seem to have dung stuck under her nose at first glance.

Narcissa ignored Hermione completely, her attention set only on her son. "Draco, you shouldn't wander on your own." She placed a hand delicately on his left arm.

"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself, Mother," said Malfoy contemptuously, pulling his arm out of his mother's hold and wincing slightly, as though she had struck him.

Narcissa chose that moment to finally notice Hermione. She shot a quick glance between the two teenagers, accessing the situation. She didn't seem to remember Hermione. "Is this a friend of yours, Draco?"

Malfoy smirked at the statement and looked at his mother, his body relaxing somewhat. "No mother; I don't associate with scum like Mudbloods."

Hermione shouldn't be surprised Mrs. Malfoy allowed her son to use such language, but it was still humiliating and hurt a little. That hurt though transformed immediately to anger, and she all but whipped out her wand and cursed the Slytherin to oblivion.

"Yes, indeed," said Narcissa, her pretty red lips curling in disgust. "Come Draco, we have things to do."

Without another word, the Malfoy's turned on their heels; Hermione watched them go, feeling a little put out.

_Well, _she thought, _that explains Malfoy's rotten attitude. _She stood there a moment before going back to the shop. Every few steps she glanced around, just to make sure no one had noticed her encounter with Malfoy. The streets were still pretty much deserted, a dreary feeling shadowing the alley. Hermione was about to pull open the doors to Fred and George's shop when Harry and Ron seemed to burst through. The three stared at each other, momentarily frozen.

"Where have you been?" Ron demanded, looking over her shoulder. "If mum knew you slipped off, she'd flip her lid."

For a brief second, Hermione debated on whether or not she wanted to tell Harry and Ron about Malfoy's little confrontation. They'd probably want to know, right? And yet…Harry and Ron had a tendency to overact and quite frankly, Hermione didn't feel like dealing with their lack of emotional control. The conclusions they'd draw over nothing wasn't even worth it. Malfoy was nothing, and their encounter meant nothing.

"Just stepped out for some air," she settled on saying. "It was just a bit crowded in there."

Although Ron looked unconvinced, Hermione led the way back inside Fred and George's shop before the boys could ask more questions.

* * *

><p>After a half hour, Mrs. Weasley decided to take Ginny and Mr. Weasley to get everyone's books from Flourish and Blotts. Hermione, Harry, and Ron were to hang out in Fred and George's shop while Hagrid stood guarding the door. Conveniently, Hagrid had missed the confrontation with Malfoy. Hermione had the suspicion he had made a short trip to Knockturn Alley, the same place he had won a dragons egg their first year. Hagrid had a reputation for befriending large and abnormal creatures such as: Aragog, the giant spider that dwelt in the Forbidden Forest; and Buckbeak, the hippogriff Hermione and Harry had saved in their third year.<p>

Harry and Ron were joking with Fred while George was taking his shift at the register. Hermione had found the Bewitched Quills section and decided to ask for Fred's advice on the better bargain.

"I can't decide which one I want," she said, examining a long silver quill. "How long do the Spell Checking Quills last?"

"Should be good for a couple months, depending how often you use it," said Fred. "If you're looking for endurance, we find the Self Inking Quill will last the longest. Just a simple Replenishing Charm."

Hermione bit her lip and glanced at the thicker, black quill in her other hand. A Self Inking Quill would certainly save time on essays, but Spell Checking was certainly important. Well, she _did_ have several dictionaries for that, and using a quill might be considered lazy.

After much debate, she decided on the Self Inking Quill, and handed it over to Fred.

"Excellent choice," said Fred, sending the black, feathery quill over to George at the register with his wand.

"Why doesn't she have to pay?" Ron asked furiously.

"Because she tested out our telescope and the hair potion wasn't worth much anyway," said Fred simply. Hermione couldn't be more pleased. She was leaving Fred and George's shop with a brand new bottle of Weasley's Anti-Frizz Potion and a Self Inking Quill, free of charge. A temporary black eye was definitely worth it.

"But I'm your brother," said Ron, his face incredulous. "I should get a discount or something."

"What kind of businessmen would we be if we gave family discounts? You pay full price," said Fred, ignoring Ron's groans. "And Hermione, if you decide you want the Spell Checking Quill, you can order it by owl."

"What?" Ron asked. "What d'you mean, by owl?"

"Yeah, our new Owl Order Service for you lot at Hogwarts," said Fred, handing out several purple and gold pamphlets. "Didn't you listen to George? This explains everything." Hermione handed one to Harry, but his expression was a bit detached, his mind clearly elsewhere. She shook her head and turned toward the window and saw that Hagrid was gone again. _Great, _Hermione thought, _some security. _

"You disguise them as cough potions?"

Fred's reply was drowned as a sliver of blonde caught Hermione's eye—Malfoy, walking down the street. Alone. He was checking his shoulders in a very suspicious way, as if he was on the run from the Ministry. His overprotective mother was nowhere in sight. Something about the way he was walking made Hermione too curious. Too curious to ignore it and go on like it didn't happen. When something irked its way inside her head she had to see it through. To solve the unknown mystery, no matter how big or small. She knew she couldn't slip out of the shop again without being noticed. She had to think fast, or Malfoy would get away.

_Get away, _Hermione snorted at the thought, _as if he broke the law or something. _

And yet…he was definitely up to something. The way he moved, the way he glanced over his shoulder, the way his mother was absent—it all added up to something.

Hermione kept her gaze trained on the glass window, and not five seconds later, Narcissa came strolling quickly after her son. She didn't look quite as put together as she had earlier. There was a frenzied, wild look on her pretty face. Something was definitely going on here.

Without giving it much thought, Hermione quickly turned to Harry, tugging on his arm, never allowing her eyes to leave the window as the Malfoy's continued down the alley.

"What, Hermione?"

Hermione had to think fast. "Harry…I need to catch up to the Weasley's. I forgot to tell Mrs. Weasley about another book I wanted. I don't really want Hagrid to see me because he might not let me go since he can't leave you all alone in here and I don't want you and Ron to have to come because of me…so…could I borrow your cloak?" The words came out so quickly she gasped for breath when she finished. She knew her story was a bit far-fetched but not entirely unbelievable. Ron was deep in conversation with Fred; therefore, hearing none of the conversation taking place between Hermione and Harry.

"Do you know where you're going?" Harry asked.

"Yes." Hermione tried not to sound as impatient as she felt.

Harry still looked reluctant but ended up slipping her the cloak. She smiled in triumph and quickly put the cloak over herself and sprinted through the door in the direction she saw Narcissa walking. She practically ran down the cobbled streets, thankful it wasn't crowded.

When Hermione finally caught up to Narcissa, she hung back but kept a safe enough distance that she could still see the back of Malfoy. The Malfoy's paused, so Hermione paused. This minor hesitation forced her to think about why she was doing this. Following the Malfoy's would definitely be something Harry would do—not her—and yet she could not help her feet that continued to move forward.

Malfoy slipped into Knockturn Alley, of all places, and Narcissa followed a bit more hesitantly. Hermione tightened the cloak protectively around her shoulders and followed after them. This was the first time she had ever seen Knockturn Alley and she had to admit, she wasn't impressed. The alley was quite narrow, and the little light that filtered in had a sort of dull, brown glow. Dirt seemed to clutter in masses on the street. Wizards were cowering in the streets, all dressed in black and sodden with ashes. Hermione followed after the Malfoy's until Narcissa finally broke the silence.

"Draco, I wish to speak with you."

Malfoy went very still before turning around with a sigh. The simple gesture made him seem, for the first time, like a normal human being. He looked positively drained, and gave a quick nod toward a nearby alley. Narcissa followed him, and Hermione made sure to be extra quiet. Once Narcissa and Malfoy were away from curious eyes, Narcissa turned her icy eyes on her son, a glare twisting her pretty features.

"You are being _foolish_," she scorned, her voice menacing and as cold as her eyes.

"I told you to stay out of this, Mother," Malfoy hissed, sliding a hand through his light blonde hair.

"You are my only son, Draco." Narcissa's anger seemed to defuse, her voice much softer. "You don't have to do this. We can find another way. Just give it time."

"There is no more time. How many times do I have to tell you there's no other choice?" His tone made it clear they had had this conversation many times.

"And what about your father?" asked Narcissa, blotting her watery eyes with a handkerchief she had pulled out of a leather handbag. "Have you thought of him?"

"Why do you think I'm doing this? For him. For you. For Alfred." Malfoy took a deep breath and placed his hands in his pockets, glancing anywhere but at his mother. His skin had paled in the dim light, making him look more hollow and dead than ever. "Leave me alone, Mother. There's nothing you can do that will help me. Keep this conversation to yourself. He won't be pleased if he finds out. Now excuse me, I need to speak with Borgin." He swept from the alley so quickly Hermione had to back into a wall to avoid collision.

Narcissa stood frozen, staring after Malfoy as though he might come back. Her eyes were now glistening with tears. She let out a tiny sob and covered her face. Hermione immediately wanted to run away, feeling horrible guilty about intruding on an apparent deep family matter. Never in her life would she imagine she'd feel sorry for Narcissa Malfoy. But looking at her now—a beautiful China doll broken to pieces—she certainly did.

_Move_, Hermione thought, forcing herself away from the scene. She left the alley and saw Malfoy standing outside a shop: Borgin and Burkes, a dimly lit shop with dark tinted windows. He shook his head once and stepped inside. Hermione glanced back and saw that Narcissa was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gone?

Hermione didn't wait around to find out, but instead moved toward Borgin and Burkes and stood close to the musky window, trying to peer in. Malfoy approached the counter, and the man behind the register shrank back, as though Malfoy was something to be frightened of. This made no sense. Why would anyone be frightened of Malfoy? Yes, he was annoying and rude, but not frightening. He shifted, and Hermione tried to get a better view, but he was showing something to the man behind the counter that she couldn't see. The man's eyes widened further, and he cowered back.

"What on earth…?" Hermione muttered. She reached a hand under the cloak toward the knob—and was instantly repealed. _Of course. _Malfoy must have placed an Intruder Charm on the door so no one could enter. Deciding to give up on the matter rather than be discovered, she slipped out her wand and muttered,

"_Navigo!_"

Her wand acted like a compass, pointing her in the direction of Fred and George's shop. Hermione had read about the Navigation Charm last year and found it quite useful. If the wizard or witch was able to picture where he/she wanted to go, their wand would point the way. Of course distance mattered, based on the power of the wizard/witch, but Hermione knew the closeness of Diagon Alley would permit her spell to work. She crept quickly back to Diagon Alley towards Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, putting as much distance from her and Malfoy as she could. She stared at her wand as she walked, allowing it to guide her.

Hermione tried to concentrate on her destination so the charm would continue to work but she could not forget the look in panic and fear in Narcissa's eyes. Apparently whatever Malfoy was up to was something Narcissa disapproved of. And not just like he was doing something wrong. Narcissa was fearful of whatever it was. That much was clear by her expression. Yet Malfoy said he was doing this for her, his father, and Alfred—whoever that was. He also had mentioned for his mother to keep the conversation to themselves because 'he' would not be pleased. Who would not be pleased?

There were too many possibilities running through Hermione's head as she continued down the cobbled streets, each as unlikely as the next.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading! Now to answer a few questions:**

**Cwolly: "in the American version of the Harry Potter books have they changed it to say 'mom'?"** - No, you're right, I messed up on that part. Usually I'm so good with remembering it's supposed to be "mum!" The American version has "mum," but like "color" is spelled that way and not "colour." :P

**Chloe: "'Her large, ginger cat Crookshanks was nestled at her feet on the bed, completely obviously to the chaos and fear in the wizarding world.' Is that meant to be 'completely oblivious'?"** - Yeah, kind of lol. Well, the point was that Hermione is sort of subconsciously comparing her frenzied/worried self that jumps at every sound to her snoozing cat that has it easy. She's a little jealous that her cat doesn't have to deal with the chaos that's going on. :P Not sure if I'm making sense..(Thanks for finding me over here by the way! *hugs*)

**Alenerien: "I found one tiny mistake - Hermione didn't received O.W.L. in Muggle Studies, because she dropped it at the end of third year."** - You're right! I went back and checked, and Ron says in Half Blood Prince that Hermione received ten Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations. So either Ron was wrong or Rowling messed up, haha. :P


	4. All Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**A/N: This is actually really fun to re-write. =) Thanks for waiting!**

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><p>"It is difficult to say who do you the most mischief: enemies with the worst intentions or friends with the best." - <em>E.R. Bulwer-Lytton<em>

**Chapter 4 – All Aboard the Hogwarts Express**

When Hermione stepped back into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, she noticed Harry and Ron lifting a heavy crate containing Skiving Snackboxes just near the register, Fred smirking as he guided them. Harry's eyes swept over her and he immediately let go of his end of the crate. Ron let out an angry "Oi!" as the box began to fall and he attempted to catch it.

There was a brief moment when Hermione laughed, watching Ron struggle, but the look on Harry's face wiped the smile off her face. He ignored Ron's protests and made his way over to Hermione. When he reached her she noticed he wasn't angry, which was good, but he was definitely suspicious. He grabbed her arm lightly and pulled her off to the side, out of earshot from Ron and Fred.

"The Weasley's got back a few minutes ago, said you never asked them for another book," said Harry, his eyes full of concern and doubt.

"No, I never found them," said Hermione, in what she hoped was a disappointing tone, "I searched everywhere...I must have missed them. It's okay though; I can order the book by owl once we get to Hogwarts."

Her feeble attempt didn't convince Harry entirely—she could tell by his expression—but she was saved further speculation by Mrs. Weasley.

"There you are, Hermione dear! Harry said you tried to catch up to us but we must have missed you." Mrs. Weasley frowned, looking concerned. "We can always go back, dear, if you need to."

"It's alright, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione reassured her. "I'll order the book when I get to Hogwarts. No need to make another trip."

Mrs. Weasley looked ready to argue, but after Hermione reminded her of Harry's birthday, that seemed to put the issue to the back of her mind.

They bid Fred and George farewell and made their way toward the Leaky Cauldron. The air was muggy and the sun blistered the back of Hermione's neck. She shifted out of her light jacket and nearly bumped into Harry in the process. He didn't seem to notice, his eyes flickering between the pavement and Ginny. He started to inch in her direction, very slowly, but quickly changed tactics as Ron obliviously pushed his way between the two of them.

_Ron is such an idiot, _Hermione thought, rolling her eyes.

When they finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, the smell of whiskey and wood filled the room, the tables scarcely empty of guests. Tom the barman looked up as Hermione and the others bristled inside. He gave a toothy grin before going back to polishing a glass. A long, rectangular table was set in the middle of the room, plates and cups already in place. Several wooden stools were occupied by Lupin, Tonks, Bill, and Fleur.

"Wotcher Harry," said Tonks, her hair a custom bubble pink. She nearly knocked over her glass when she shook Mr. Weasley's hand. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," said Harry, looking uncomfortable with the attention. He took a seat and before he could do anything about it, Mrs. Weasley brought over a pile of presents.

He didn't seem too eager about Hermione's gift, which happened to be another homework planner; he claimed to have lost his last one, though Hermione had a feeling it found its way to the Gryffindor fireplace. Fleur had given him a picture of herself and her sister, Gabrielle; Hermione and Ginny both felt this present was both inappropriate and unnecessary.

Tom brought a wonderful feast full of pot roast, baked potatoes with whipped butter, bitter greens, and butterbeer. The only noise in the otherwise empty pub was the sound of chinking silver and chewing. The food was delicious, and after a long day of walking, Hermione thought it might even rival Hogwarts. Then again, that was probably just her empty stomach talking.

"So," said Harry, turning to Lupin and breaking the silence, "anything new with you know" —he lowered his voice— "the Order?"

"Unfortunately, an inside source has it that Mr. Ollivander has gone missing," said Lupin, looking very disturbed and reluctant to share such information.

"More potatoes?" Mrs. Weasley asked, holding the large plate in the air, as though words alone weren't enough for the suggestion.

"The wand maker?" Ron piped up, swallowing down his hot potatoes too quickly. He grimaced and went for his butterbeer.

"Yes, no one knows where or why," said Lupin. "His wife reported him missing last Thursday. Says he never came home. There was no disruption or sign of a struggle at the shop either, so it's quite the mystery."

"Do you think he went on holiday?" Ron asked.

Lupin thought it over. "It's…possible, of course. But why he wouldn't inform Lucille is beyond me and makes little sense."

"What will people do without wands?" Harry asked. "New first years, especially."

"Well Harry, Mr. Ollivander's not the only wandmaker in the world," said Mr. Weasley.

Mrs. Weasley cleared here throat loudly before she spoke, "Bill, how about more roast?"

"I heard a bloke at the bank saying Scrimgeour and Dumbledore had a row," said Bill, ignoring his mother's offer.

"That appears to be the case, according to the Prophet," said Lupin, "but I haven't had a chance to speak with Dumbledore yet."

"Think Scrimgeour's any good?" Harry asked. "I mean, better than Fudge?"

"Reckon anyone would be better than Fudge," said Ron.

"I think Scrimgeour's more aware of the situation than Fudge was," said Tonks thoughtfully. "Being Head of the Auror Office, he was usually on top of things."

"I reckon he—"

"Could we please talk about something else?" Mrs. Weasley cut in, clearly frustrated. "Something a bit more pleasant on _Harry's birthday celebration_."

Lupin smiled weakly and changed the subject to Quidditch, asking Harry and Ron about the upcoming season. Hermione had little interest in Quidditch, and allowed herself to drift out of the conversation. Her mind was whirling, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. She found it very fishy that Mr. Ollivander would go on holiday at a time like this, right before the new school year. It didn't make much sense. Why would he do that?

Seeing no logical explanation, and no clues to go on, Hermione decided to push the issue to the back of her mind, knowing she'd reopen the case whenever new information came forth.

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><p>A few days later, Hermione, Harry, and the Weasley's were packed to go to Kings Cross Station in London. Although Hermione and the others were apparently ready for the trip, they were still pushed for time like usual. It didn't seem to matter how prepared they were—they were always running behind time. Hermione was relieved to find they would not be apparating, but taking a Ministry car.<p>

"A stroke of luck," Mr. Weasley had said. Hermione and the others new it wasn't true, though. It was a precaution for Harry, and pretending otherwise was silly.

"We must hurry!" barked Mrs. Weasley, motioning everyone toward the car. "In you get, Ron."

"How're you expecting us to fit?" Ron asked, hesitating with a hand on the window.

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you're really a wizard," said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

"It's been enchanted, obviously," Hermione supplied, fighting a laugh at the look on Ron's face.

"Okay! Shut it…" he mumbled, sliding into the car while carefully maneuvering the noisy cage of Pigwidgen. The cage clipped the roof and Pig let out a sort of squeal of a chirp.

Mrs. Weasley held out a hand. "Girls, you next."

Hermione slid in next to Ron, and Ginny and Harry followed next. It was definitely cramped, even for a magically expanded car. All eight pairs of knees were knocked in to one another. Hermione tried not to blush, being flushed up against Ron's side. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, or else finding something very appealing out the window.

When the car took off, she tried to scoot away from him, but it only pressed Ginny closer to Harry. Ginny was taller than Hermione, and her long legs and arms were pressing right into Harry's body. He looked very tense. He might have been attempting a nonverbal spell by the amount of concentration on his face.

Feathery clouds streaked with sunlight fell over the country side, painting a scenic picture. The lolling of the hills was rhythmic and peaceful. Somewhere along the way Ron had fallen asleep, face pressed against the window. Hermione sat quietly, listening to Harry and Ginny talk casually, both of them smiling and laughing.

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><p>Kings Cross Station was, as always, overly crowded with muggles and magical folk alike. Attempting to maneuver her way through the crowd, Hermione accidently knocked into a muggle family, causing their trunks to fall like stacked dominos. She gave an embarrassed apology and practically sprinted away, pulling a trolley behind her that carried Crookshanks and her own trunk. Mrs. Weasley practically shoved everyone through the barrier of Platform 9 ¾, Harry being escorted by Mr. Weasley and a burly Auror that had met them at the station. He didn't look at all thrilled by it.<p>

Hermione followed next, pushing her trolley toward the barrier, a solid brick wall. The second before she hit the wall always made her nervous, but it was no matter, for she went straight through. On the other side was the familiar scarlet Hogwarts Express, hissing steam over the crowd.

Hermione beamed at the familiar faces. Parvati and Padma Patil were halfway out of their parents grasps, trying to reassure their safety. Neville Longbottom was attempting to prowl his grandmother's fingers from his clothes. Luna Lovegood ran through the crowd, like she was chasing something. It took Hermione a few seconds to realize she was chasing something invisible.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said their quick goodbyes, each of them promising to behave and write frequently. Mrs. Weasley gave Harry an extra hug, making him blush, and his face was still a little red when he turned to Ginny.

"Fancy finding a compartment?"

"Actually, I'm meeting Dean." Her face fell. "Sorry, Harry. I'll save you a seat in the Great Hall."

Harry only looked slightly put out. "Right, okay."

Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "It's really stupid we have to sit in the prefect carriage. Don't you agree, Ron?"

When Ron said nothing, she turned to look at him. He had that wispy, dreamlike stare thing going on again, like he always did whenever he was staring at Fleur, only now he was looking at a group of giggling girls.

"Ron!" She snapped, a bit too harshly.

"Wha? Oh. Yeah…right." He avoided Hermione's stern gaze.

"We need to meet the new Head Girl and Boy," she said, very business-like.

Ron hesitated. "I need to talk to Harry first. I'll meet you in there, alright?"

"Don't be late," she warned, a threatening note to her voice.

"Calm down Hermione," said Ron, grinning. "We're not even at school yet and your wands already in a knot."

Hermione ignored him and made her way onto the train, pushing past students. The sounds of excitement and some of Fred and George's inventions lit up the corridors. She found the Prefect carriage rather quickly. On the outside of the door, where a number would normally be, a golden "P" shone brightly, the words "sixth years" written nearly below. As she backed inside, attempting to squeeze her trunk and cage through the door, she lost balance and fell backward, barely having time to quickly turn and catch herself with her hands.

She let out a little cry of alarm, her wrists throbbing. When she opened her eyes, she was staring at a pair of black, shiny shoes.

"Finally understanding where you belong, Granger?" A voice leered from above.

Hermione shot her head up so quickly her neck nearly broke. Her glare was even nastier because of the pain in both her wrists and now her neck.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she spat back at him.

His only response was a shrug. Without bothering to do what a normal, rational, polite human being would do—like asking her if she was okay, or if she needed help—he simply sat down on one of the seats.

Hermione stared at him a moment before she got to her feet, collected her things, and brushed her clothes, attempting to gather as much dignity as possible. She felt a little restless to be stuck alone with him after her eavesdropping in Diagon Alley. She rolled back on her heels, debating whether or not she should leave and come back when other Prefects arrived. Her hesitation only lasted a second.

Once she put her things in the rack above the seats—no thanks to Malfoy or her lack of height—she sat down opposite of him, a bit awkwardly, and pulled out the _Dailey Prophet_. Crookshanks, free of his cage, leapt onto her lap and started to _purr_ softly.

Hermione was scanning the front page when she noticed Malfoy staring at her. She pretended not to notice until she saw him tilt his head to the side curiously, examining her like a lab rat. She realized she had read the same line five times, her peripheral vision focusing all her attention. She sighed and kept her eyes on the prophet as she spoke,

"Is there a problem, Malfoy?"

"I was just wondering how you do it," he replied innocently, except there was nothing innocent about Draco Malfoy.

Hermione didn't respond; she truthfully could care less with whatever he was talking about. She was a bit pleased his cold tone from the alley was gone, but not enough to voice her opinion. Part of her—a part she refused to acknowledge openly—preferred an annoying Malfoy to an emotionless one.

"Must be really tough," Malfoy added in her silence.

She could tell by his tone he was smirking, those lips turning up in the corners. Still, she said nothing, wanting to preserve this quiet moment reading her prophet. Never mind she hadn't made it past the first paragraph.

"Is it difficult?" Malfoy drawled.

Hermione huffed loudly as she slammed the prophet down and glanced up, scowling. "How do I do what, Malfoy?" she asked, frustrated at giving in to his childish behavior.

"How do you get up every day knowing you're the scum of the wizarding world," Malfoy sneered through his teeth.

"How do you get up every day knowing you're a disappointment to your family?" she replied coldly.

For a moment, Hermione thought he might draw out his wand judging by the look in his eyes, so she slid her hand into her front pocket. Mentally, she scolded herself. _Starting a fight before school starts, nice job Hermione!_ She braced herself, waiting to deflect whatever curse Malfoy hurled her way. To her surprise, he simply stormed out of the carriage, cursing under his breath.

_One point for Hermione_, she thought with a triumphant smile, relaxing her hand around her wand.

By the time she had read the first two pages of the _Daily Prophet_, Ron arrived with some of the other Prefects: Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff, worthy of passing as a Weasley by her flaming red hair and freckles. Hufflepuffs other Prefect, Ernie Macmillan. His boyish face lit up the compartment, blue eyes shining with usual pride. Malfoy came back, this time with his pug faced girlfriend Pansy Parkinson, who might be attractive if she didn't look so angry and pissed off. A few minutes later, Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein shuffled in from Ravenclaw and were forced to separate on both sides of the crowded compartment. Padma was an identical twin to Hermione's fellow Gryffindor student, Parvati. Both girls were Indian, with long black hair and deep set eyes. Anthony was very round and blonde; he seemed to bounce with enthusiasm with every breath.

While they were waiting for the Head Boy and Girl to arrive, Ron turned to Hermione.

"Harry got invited to go into Professor Slughorn's compartment," he said, a bit of bitterness in his voice.

"Whose Professor Slughorn?" asked Padma, obviously eavesdropping. Not that Hermione could talk.

"He's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, used to be Head of Slytherin," replied Ron, casting a dark glance at Malfoy and Pansy, both of which looked rather smug.

"It's a bit odd though," said Hermione. "Wonder what he wants with Harry?"

"Dunno, do I?" said Ron, that same bitterness resurfacing. "Something him and Neville share in common, I s'pose. He was invited, too."

"_Longbottom_? What's he want with him? Are you joking?"

Everyone turned their attention to Malfoy, who looked like he had just eaten a pile of dung.

"Pretty sure that's what I said," replied Ron coolly.

"Shut up, Weaselbee. We all can see how jealous you are over it," said Malfoy, sneering. "Bet you wish you could sneak to their compartment. Maybe they get special food that you can send home to your family so they don't have to starve to pay for your new books."

Ron's ears blazed a bright shade of scarlet, his fists clenching on his knees. Hermione grabbed his arm as he went for his wand.

"Leave it, Ron, it's just Malfoy," she whispered urgently. She glared at Malfoy with as much hatred as she had in Diagon Alley. She could not understand how anyone could insult someone like that. Luckily, the compartment door opened to reveal the new Head Boy and Girl.

"OH!" Hermione exclaimed in excitement, the issue with Ron forgotten. She reached into her purse and pulled out new parchment and a Self-Inking Quill to take notes. The gesture made her inwardly smile; how she loved new parchment and quills.

Katie Bell from Gryffindor and Eddie Carmichael from Ravenclaw entered the compartment. Katie was a dark haired Quidditch player with a kind, soft face and large brown eyes. Eddie also played Quidditch, but for Ravenclaw. He had lanky arms and was covered in freckles. They both had nervous, yet very proud looks on their faces.

"Hey," said Katie, smiling. "We wanted to speak with you lot first before the new Fifth Year Prefects. We're going to have meetings once every two or three weeks, just to keep on schedule. It'll be hard with Quidditch schedules and tryouts coming up but we'll make do."

She took a deep breath, as though pleased her shining moment had passed without fail, and gestured for Eddie to speak.

"Yeah, we'll work in pairs this year, patrolling the corridors and making sure no one is out past curfew," he said. "As you know, security is tightened a ton and we need to make sure everyone follows the rules."

Hermione nodded as she finished copying their words, looking up to notice most of the Prefects looked bored already. She saw Malfoy picking at his fingers as if he had nothing better to do. Appalled, she opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted when Ron's stomach let out a loud growl. Almost everyone laughed.

"I guess that's all we've got for our big welcome speech," said Katie, once the laughter died down. "There's a surprise this year and we decided for you lot to hear about it at the feast—we don't want to spoil it for you. Well, we'll see you _very_ soon!"

Before anyone could comment on the matter, Katie and Eddie vanished. Everyone looked around in mild curiosity, as though they were all thing the same thing: _What surprise is Katie talking about?_

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><p><strong>AN: Lol I forgot how horrible Draco is in the beginning of this story..haha. Oh he's fun to write though. :P Thanks for reading, guys! I'd really like your input. Now to respond to a few reviews:**

**jazzy4ver: "Do you still do the character question thing over here?"** - Not yet for this story. I'll probably wait until about chapter 10-15. ;) You can only ask a question that pertains to the present chapter, and nothing has really happened yet. :P

**xheni: "I am so relieved the story isn't lost!"** - Me too! Thankfully it's saved on my computer, haha. This re-writing is fun, though. I've caught a lot of errors and tightened up the writing. I think. I tried. lol

**NOTE: If you have never heard of Avatar the Last Airbender, you are missing out. If you are a Draco and Hermione fan, you will LOVE Zuko and Katara. Brooding boy who wants to prove to his father that he's worthy of love? Check. Sexy, hot voice? Check. Stubborn, hot tempered female? Check. Yes, they trump Dramione and that says something. ATLA is possibly the best show ever..I've converted many Harry Potter fans to it myself. Trust me..you'll love it. **

**Anyway, I'm really excited about my fic The Black Games, which is a take on The Hunger Games in the Avatar world. I highly suggest it to my readers if you like my style, even if you've never read anything Avatar. You don't need to..because this is AU and you'll pick up on it. ;) Seriously, dramione fans need to unite with Zutara fans. :P That's all. lol**


	5. The Prefect Surprise

**A/N: Thanks for your support and reviews. I was really unsure if I wanted to re-submit this, but your feedback keeps me going. Thank you! Enjoy. =)**

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><p>"Just because everything is different doesn't mean anything has changed." - <em>Irene Peter<em>

**Chapter 5 - The Prefect Surprise**

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardly sat among extensive grounds with sloping lawns, flowerbeds and vegetable patches, the Forbidden Forest draping near the edges in dark shadows. Though Hermione couldn't see it, the amount of protection and enchantments seemed to ripple in an invisible current of waves. The castle was concealed from the main entrance, where the students shuffled in a messy line toward the gates.

"Heads an' Prefect's first…one at a time…one at a time!" barked a familiar wheezy voice. Argus Filch, the school caretaker. His patchy brown robes waved wildly as he gestured everyone forward with what looked like a hand-held sensor.

Hermione made her way toward the front of the line with Ron, apologizing over and over for cutting the students she passed. Ron didn't seem the slightest bit sorry. They stopped behind Ernie, and she did a quick glance around out of habit. One Prefect was missing: Malfoy. Before she could put more thought into the matter, Padma gave her a nudge from behind to move forward.

"Arms and legs out," Filch ordered.

"What's this rubbish?" asked Ron, spreading his arms and legs awkwardly as Filch ran his sensor over his body. Hermione held back a laugh; she traveled with her parents on more than one occasion by air, and couldn't imagine poor Ron going through the process.

"Rubbish?" Filch's voice cracked. "This…this here is a Secrecy Sensor! Stoppin' you lot from bringin' in the dark stuff, this is!"

"Right," said Ron. Seeming satisfied, Filch gestured for him to move and Hermione to step forward. She spread her arms and legs like Ron. The sensor brushed close to her thigh and Ron gave a little jolt.

"Oi! You watch where you put that thing!"

"Its fine, Ron," Hermione assured him, shaking her head. She was instantly cleared like Ron, and the two fell into step toward the large oak doors of Hogwarts. The path wound through heavy trees and looming shadow, the wind softy stirring the grass.

Hermione turned to Ron. "Should we wait for Harry?"

"Nah, he's probably with Neville or Luna."

Hermione sighed, contemplating further argument. She had not seen Harry off the train. Then again, she had not seen Neville or Luna, either.

As they entered the Great Hall, she couldn't help but smile. The four house tables were as inviting as ever. The ceiling was bewitched to resemble the night's sky; tonight, a clear midnight black with glistening stars shining brightly. Hundreds of candles floated in midair over the tables, the castle ghosts soaring throughout the hall. The Gryffindor House Ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, glided through the tables, allowing his head to hang off slightly in a semi gruesome manner

Hermione made her way over to the Gryffindor table with Ron, glancing around the hall at the familiar faces. Only she was having trouble finding a specific face. "Ron," she began, slightly worried, as she took a seat, "where's Harry? I don't see him anywhere…"

Ron lifted his head and searched the hall. "Should be round here, I reckon."

"Who are you looking for?" asked Ginny, taking a seat next to Hermione. "Harry?"

Hermione nodded impatiently.

"He was behind me on the train," said Ginny, puzzled. She was taller than Hermione, and was able to crane her neck and get a better view, searching through the hoard of students.

"Hmm…" Ron began, frowning, "you don't think—"

"Neville!" Hermione reached out a hand, grasping Neville by the robes. "Have you seen Harry?"

"Not since he left Slughorn's compartment with me and Ginny," said Neville, shrugging. "Why?"

Ron whipped around to face his sister. "_You_ were invited, too?"

"You sound surprised," Ginny noted dryly.

Ron opened his mouth to speak but Hermione pointed to Professor McGonagall, and the hall had fallen silent. Their Transfiguration professor entered the hall, bustling frightened first years to the front of the room to be sorted.

The Sorting seemed to drag for ages. When the Sorting Hat finally announced the last first year, "Damon Hawthorne," to join Hufflepuff, Hermione could barely keep herself in her seat. She could not believe Harry was still missing, and furthermore, couldn't believe no one else seemed to notice. What if something happened to him?

Damon Hawthorne wasn't even seated at Hufflepuffs table when she half stood, ready to inform McGonagall of the problem, when Harry plunked down next to Ginny. A thousand emotions rushed to the surface but they were instantly washed away at the sight of him. Her mouth openly dropped. His face was bloody and slightly swollen, like he had just finished a nasty brawl.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, though her voice was lost in the chatter of the Great Hall as the new first years were made at home. "What's wrong with your face?"

"Blimey…" Ron muttered, his eyes widening.

"What d'you mean?" Harry looked skeptical, like he was trying to avoid getting in trouble.

"You're covered in blood," Ginny breathed. She handed him a spoon. He flipped it and glanced at his own reflection.

"Huh," he murmured, "so I am…"

"Hey Ron!" a voice suddenly called. Hermione turned to see Lavender Brown, a fellow sixth year Gryffindor. Her round face was flushed with color, her brown eyes large-like orbs of wonder. She turned to giggle at Parvati Patil, hiding her face behind a tightly woven braid.

Hermione ignored their annoying behavior. "Here," she said to Harry, raising her wand, "let me fix that…._tergeo_!" The blood disappeared at once, but the dirt and worry was still etched on his face like a permanent mask.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"No problem."

"You missed a spot," said Ginny. She took a napkin and dabbed a tiny trickle of blood from Harry's chin.

Though the gesture was nothing but friendly, Hermione felt the need to look away, as though the moment was far too private for her to be staring. She made sure to hide her smile, however.

Ron seemed to miss the moment, his attention still caught on Lavender and Parvati. When he turned back around, Ginny dropped her hand. His face was a little flushed as he gaped at Harry, eyes widening in sudden acknowledgement.

"Where were you?" he demanded. "Hermione was about to send the Order for you."

Harry hesitated, looking around the table at all of the curious faces. Hermione didn't realize, but everyone _was_ staring at them.

"Tell you later," said Harry.

Before Hermione, or Ron for the matter, could argue, Albus Dumbledore rose from his thrown from the center of the staff table. The room fell silent at once. Dumbledore looked the picturesque image of a wizard: Long, silvery hair fell down his back, a pointed beard hanging nearly as long. Navy blue robes embroidered with silver stars, with a matching hat. Sparkling blue eyes that seemed to pierce anything they penetrated, lighting up the hall. His half mood spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and his smile was welcoming and warm.

"Good evening to you all!" Dumbledore exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear and extending his arms out in such to hug the whole room. When he did so, Hermione noticed his hand. It was withered, dark and blackened, and seemed to look dead. Apparently she was not the only one to notice, however, as quiet chatter broke out over the hall. Dumbledore didn't miss it and quickly pulled his sleeve over his hand as he spoke,

"No worries, a mere accident. I am quite pleased to see both new and familiar faces. I have a few start-of-term announcements, but they can wait until after the feast. Now, tuck in!"

Immediately, food filled the four house tables. Hermione looked around to see her favorites: mashed potatoes, fried chicken, roast pork, green beans with ham, assorted rolls and biscuits, and a wonderful smelling kidney pie. Ron had already begun stuffing his face when he spoke,

"Knowwhat? Dis food weally iz wunderfl."

Hermione and Ginny stared at Ron with a look of repulsion.

"Ronald, you are truly the most disgusting pig I have ever seen."

"Fanks 'ermione." Ron flashed a smile filled with mashed potatoes.

Hermione scowled and began eating her dinner with a little less appetite. If she didn't personally know Mrs. Weasley, she'd guess Ron was starved at home. Digging into kidney pie, she glanced at the Slytherin Table, wondering if Malfoy finally showed his face. He wasn't hard to find; that blonde hair was hard to miss. He wasn't eating; in fact, he seemed to be telling a joke or story, a group of Slytherins huddled around him. Suddenly he lifted a hand and punched—no, _pretended_ to punch—Goyle in the face.

Everyone who was listening burst into laughter. Pansy's snort of a laugh broke through most of the laughter, along with Crabbe and Goyle's thundering gorilla chuckles. They were really a group of well practiced circus animals at peak season.

Hermione started to look away, when Crabbe suddenly pointed at her. No, not her. They pointed at Harry. Wait…why were they pointed? Crabbe covered his nose and did a very horrible impersonation of whimpering. Hermione's eyes widened and she turned away.

"Heard you met the new teacher Harry," said Seamus Finnigan, a sandy haired boy with an Irish accent in their year.

"Yeah, what's he like?" Dean asked, with little enthusiasm. His sulky voice made little sense. Hermione briefly wondered if he and Ginny had a row, which explained why he wasn't sitting with her now.

"Er…seems alright, I s'pose. Can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?" Harry grinned.

The chatter throughout the rest of dinner at Gryffindor Table included a rather harsh dissing display on Professor Umbridge, and very accurate imitations of the Centaurs taking her away into the Forbidden Forest. Hermione had no chance to speak to Harry quietly about his bloody nose and she soon forgot about it.

After the last of the chocolate puddings and cakes were engorged, Dumbledore stood up and the room fell silent once more. He was the only wizard, Hermione thought, that could silence hundreds of students without speaking a word. Maybe Snape, perhaps.

"I have a few start-of-term notices before I send you off to your cozy rooms," he said. "First years please bear in mind that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds. I do say that your punishment is far less severe than what you might encounter in the forest itself. For those interested in playing Quidditch for their house, kindly submit your name to your team captain. As a reminder, the Hufflepuff Captain is Miss Violet Diggory."

There was a respectable amount of applauding throughout the hall. Violet was most known as Cedric's cousin, but she also happened to be quite popular with the boys with her sleek blonde hair and tiny, perfect body.

"The Gryffindor Captain is Mr. Harry Potter,"—a loud bellow erupted from the Gryffindor Table— "the Ravenclaw Captain is Mr. Eddie Carmichael,"—a smaller applause—"and the Slytherin Captain is Mr. Draco Malfoy."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at the empathic cheering from the Slytherin table. She glanced at Malfoy, expecting to see that irritating look of triumph, but was surprised to see he didn't look smug at all. In fact, he looked bored. _He was just laughing awhile ago, _she thought, unable to identify the strange change in demeanor.

"Also Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that any joke product, especially those from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, is strictly prohibited," said Dumbledore. "Now, I'd like you to all join me in welcoming our newest teacher, Professor Horace Slughorn." A man stood, his belly catching the edge of the table.

Hermione had not seen the new professor when she entered the hall, being too concerned with finding Harry. As she looked at him now, she noticed he _did_ resemble a walrus. Slughorn was a plump man, his buttons from his green velvety robes straining against the fabric. He reminded Hermione of a much younger Father Christmas with dull golden hair and mustache, instead of the traditional white. Slughorn waved at the students with a rosy-cheeked expression and then sat back down, chuckling to himself at the applause of the room.

Dumbledore smiled. "Professor Slughorn will kindly return as the Potions Master."

There was silence, and then everyone in the hall broke out into chatter and murmurs, bending their heads toward one another. Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry, astonished.

"Potions? Harry, you said Defense Against the Dark Arts…" Hermione gave him a pointed look, but he looked a bit too confused to respond properly. Didn't he say Defense Against the Dark Arts? She thought he did…

Dumbledore cleared his throat once, and then announced over the murmuring crowd, "Meanwhile, Professor Snape will take over the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry shouted out something, but it was drowned in the chatter of the hall. Snape, teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts? That meant Slughorn was teaching Potions. In curious disbelief, Hermione swung her head in the direction of the jeering Slytherin table. To her surprise, the only person who didn't seem thrilled by this announcement was Malfoy. If anything, he looked sulky. Snape, to Hermione's knowledge, had always been Malfoy's favorite professor.

Dumbledore had to clear his throat a little louder than before, causing the buzz of conversation to die down. When he finally had their attention, his expression turned very grave as he spoke,

"As you know, Lord Voldemort is at large."

The silence that followed was thick and foreboding. The atmosphere in the hall had changed drastically, leaving no sound except the heavy breathing of students. Hermione found she was along the majority, holding her own breath as Dumbledore continued,

"His followers, known as Death Eaters, are also causing havoc and mayhem. I cannot stress to you enough how important it is to remain safe in these troubled and tragic times. Our castle is protected in newer and stronger ways than before, but as the Muggles say: you can only lead a horse to water. I therefore implore you to cooperate with our new security restrictions, and should you find anything suspicious within or outside the castle walls, to report to a member of staff immediately. Though our war has just begun, the sooner we stand together, the sooner it will end. We are only as divided as we let ourselves be." Dumbledore scanned every house table, pausing a few seconds onto each, his gaze penetrating. "It was the wish of our founders to have four houses. It is with time these houses have stripped away from one another, rather than uniting as one. It has been suggested by the school board to rid Hogwarts of the four houses, instead only have one."

Dumbledore held up a hand to silence the protests.

"But I have imposed a new idea instead," he went on. "Under the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl, we can work to unite the houses. Without unity in here, we stand no chance at all out there. The corridor that contains the entrance to the Head Boy and Girl dormitory will not only serve their dormitories, but to the Sixth Year Prefects as well."

Hermione sucked in a breath. Did this mean she had to live with Ron?

"To help better unify our houses," Dumbledore went on, "Prefect's, you will share a dormitory with another house."

Immediately, the students began stirring in their seats, giggling and chattering. Hermione glanced nervously at Ron. He looked a bit green and sickly. Share a dormitory with only one person? And from another house? Hermione hoped it was Padma or Hannah. The idea of living with Pansy Parkinson was appalling.

"I do believe this change is for the best," said Dumbledore, smiling. "In dark and difficult times, it all comes down to which side to fight for. I hope, with all my heart, we will all stand on the same side."

Hermione held her breath as the room tensed. She ran through the possibilities in her head. _Okay, I have to live with either: Hannah, Padma, Pansy, Anthony, Ernie, or Malfoy. Most likely, it will be one of the girls. Co-ed dorms were only for the Head Boy and Girl, right? Right. Okay, Hannah or Padma would be fine. Padma is a Ravenclaw so she probably puts her studies first. Yes, Padma would be great. And Hannah has always been nice. Malfoy's not even an option…not going to happen. Anthony…well…I don't really know him. Ernie is a bit pompous but again, much better than Pansy….that cow. Still, she's better than Malfoy. Anyone but Draco Malfoy, _she thought over and over in her head._ Anyone but Draco Malfoy._

"I would first like to congratulate our new Head Boy and Girl. Katie Bell from Gryffindor and Eddie Carmichael from Ravenclaw," said Dumbledore, smiling as the room erupted in applause. "They will, of course, be sharing a dormitory. In another dormitory will be Padma Patil from Ravenclaw, with Ronald Weasley from Gryffindor."

Ron's face flushed a deep shade of scarlet as he glanced nervously at Padma, who returned a shaky smile. They had barely spoken to one another since the Yule Ball in their fourth year.

_Shoot_, Hermione thought, a little panicked, _Padma is out_.

"Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff will join Pansy Parkinson from Slytherin." Ernie nodded mechanically. Pansy wore a look of horror as she grabbed Malfoy by the arm, her eyes glittering in desperation. "Hermione Granger from Gryffindor…," _PLEASE not Malfoy! Please, please say Hannah or even Anthony…, _"will join Draco Malfoy from Slytherin."

Hermione stood up without realizing what she was doing. Her jaw dropped. Everyone seemed to stir in their seats by this announcement. Perhaps, because it was a common fact that Malfoy hated Mudbloods, or maybe it was the fact that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were the last two people ever to be suspected of having to get along and live in the same dormitory. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, stationed in the same dormitory was asking for trouble…especially a certain Gryffindor and Slytherin with their given past.

Hermione continued to stand, horror struck with her mouth still hanging open, gaping at Dumbledore. She turned to look at Harry and Ron, who both seemed to have the look of being struck on the head with a hammer. Ginny also stared at her, expression blank, eyes unfocused. Everyone seemed to be at a loss for words.

_Not Draco Malfoy…He's joking…_

Hermione repeated the words in her head, hoping by doing so they would not be true. She was completely stunned into shock by this announcement. This was her year of preparing for N.E.W.T.S., and possibly expanding S.P.E.W. a bit further, not to mention the upcoming war between good and evil. No, she would not have this. This could be fixed…it _would_ be fixed.

Still standing, she turned slowly to the Slytherin table. She wasn't sure what she expected, only that it wasn't _this_. His face was whiter than a sheet, the liquid silver of his eyes frozen as he stared at nothing in particular. Hermione could hear the Slytherins laughing and booing even from the distance. Dumbledore continued as if there were no interruption.

"And this leaves Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff to join Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw. You will all meet with Professor McGonagall after we are dismissed and follow her to your new home. I trust our Prefects to set a good example to our younger students. Please keep your hearts and minds open through these troubled, troubled times." Dumbledore smiled a very old and sad smile. "Good night to you all."

Hermione was vaguely aware of the various students patting her on the shoulder out of support and was brought out of her trance by Harry, who was shaking her. She wasn't sure how long that had been going on.

"Hermione, HERMIONE!" Harry roared over the crowd. "You have to go up there. Look, this is perfect. Listen quickly I haven't much time. I overheard Malfoy on the train telling his Slytherin cronies he wasn't coming back next year because of a mission. That's why I had a bloody nose, I was listening, and he found me."

"Malfoy did that to you?" Hermione heard herself ask.

"That's not the point," Harry said quickly. "Now you can spy on him and figure it out what he's up to. Can you do that? Do you hear what I'm saying, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded profusely, still feeling a little numb. "Spy…right…mission…got it." When she turned to face Harry, he wore a tired, sorrowful expression. Ron on the other hand looked livid, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

She said goodbye to Harry vaguely and made her way toward the staff table with Ron, each step agonizingly painful. She had to live with Malfoy; Draco…Pureblood…Slytherin…Malfoy; the Mudblood Hater and epitome of evil and ridicule. Hermione couldn't help noticing the apologetic looks on her fellow Prefect's faces when she arrived at the staff table. Well, all except Pansy, who threw daggers from her eyes; and Malfoy, who looked expressionless and seemed to be carved out of stone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: When I started writing this two years ago, I didn't realize it was a cliche to pair Draco and Hermione together; mostly done in many seventh **year stories. I hope you can look past that here. =) The whole 'dorming together' bit isn't the main plot behind this story, I promise. It's really a small element. To my old readers, you might find it funny that I sincerely debated putting Hermione with Pansy instead, but that would create a lot of complications down the road so I just kept Draco instead.

Thanks for reading! I look forward to hearing from you all. =)


	6. Fever Pitch

**A/N:** New chapter for you guys. Enjoy!

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><p>"There's a fire starting in my heart<br>Reaching a fever pitch  
>And it's bringing me out the dark." - <em>Rolling in the Deep<em>, Adele 

**Chapter 6 - Fever Pitch**

Professor McGonagall stood at the front of the hall waiting for the Prefects, her expression stern. Thin silver spectacles were perched on her nose, grey streaked hair pulled up in a tight bun. She was an elder woman, her face lined with wrinkles and worry. Her eyes were a cloudy grey, shining with intensity.

"As you know, this is a new order," Professor McGonagall began through pursed lips. "I trust you all to behave up to the standards we hold you accountable for here at Hogwarts. There is to be no riff-raft or inappropriate behavior of any sort. Do I make myself plain?"

The Prefects muttered a sense of agreement but all Hermione was capable of was a nod. She was still unable to grasp the concept of living with Draco Malfoy. For entire school year. And this was supposed to be for the greater good of uniting the houses? It felt more like a punishment she did not deserve.

McGonagall looked pleased. "Your things have already been brought up, so if you will follow me, I will show you to your new living quarters."

Without another word, the Prefects and Heads followed the professor in silence out of the Great Hall and up the moving spiral staircases. The only sounds besides shuffling feet were the snickering of portraits. No doubt fully aware of the situation and finding it greatly amusing.

_See whose laughing when I tilt your portrait_, Hermione thought bitterly.

They reached the 7th floor and took an immediate right, followed by another right, entering a large dimly lit corridor Hermione had never seen before. Several lanterns provided a dimly gold light and the walls had an array of moving portraits.

The stopped in front of a large oil painting that was completely empty, aside from one occupant. The man standing in the portrait was tall, pale, with striking features. His electric blue eyes glowed against the dim light. He was pacing back in forth gracefully, as if anticipating their arrival, his body lined with hard muscle. The man looked up and smiled, his teeth too straight and white to be a human's.

"Professor!" Hermione gasped. "Is that…is that…a vampire?"

"Yes, Miss Granger, he certainly is," said McGonagall. "His name is Vladimir. He has been at Hogwarts for nearly three centuries and is a most effect guard. Once spoken the password, you shall be permitted to enter. As for now, the password is _Blood_."

Hermione frowned; _Blood_ did not seem to be a very appropriate password to give to a vampire. Judging by the looks of her fellow Prefect's faces, they thought along the same lines.

As Professor McGonagall said the password, they followed her through the portrait to find the largest common room Hermione had ever seen. She took a deep breath and smelt the familiar scent of new parchment, oak, books, and smoke. Where Gryffindor Tower was draped in crimson and gold, this common room was filled with all four house colors.

Two large velvet couches—one a deep scarlet and the other a rich black— sat in the middle of the room, covered with silver and gold pillows. A fire blazed in the corner, two cushy emerald chairs sitting in front of it. Books lined the walls, wooden desks sat unoccupied. Hermione felt a strong urge to check out the books, curious if any would not be found in the Hogwarts Library.

Professor McGonagall walked straight across the room to a portrait painted with the Hogwarts crest. A shield was quartered into each color of the houses, embedded with their mascot: a red lion for Gryffindor, a yellow badger for Hufflepuff, a navy blue eagle for Ravenclaw, and a green serpent for Slytherin.

"Beyond this portrait you will find sleeping quarters," said McGonagall, indicating the portrait. "There is no spoken password, but you must present your wand to enter. The portrait will recognize you by your wand, and only you will be permitted. Miss Bell, kindly demonstrate by touching your wand to your house."

Katie shuffled out her wand and touched it to the red lion. The picture dissolved, like rippling water, into a magnificent golden lion that took up the entire frame.

"Once you are all inside, I will seal off this portrait, and only you lot will be permitted to enter," said McGonagall. She cast everyone a stern look. "Friends and other students will not be permitted—"

"What if, say, a _friend_ steals our wand and tries to get in?" Pansy interrupted. She threw a triumphant _Aren't-I-cute_ at Malfoy, as though this question merited her a genius.

"Not really a problem for you, is it?" said Ron. "You don't have any of those."

Hermione gaped at him, shocked. His expression clearly indicated that he himself was just as surprised, like someone had forced the words from his mouth.

"Mr. Weasley," McGonagall warned.

But Pansy didn't seem to hear her. "Oh, and how many friends do you have?" she said maliciously.

"I'm his friend," Hermione said, voicing her thought outloud.

"You don't count," said Pansy. "You're not even a proper witch."

Hermione stared at her, face blazing red. "Well, then, you should feel very foolish that a _less-than-proper_ witch beats you in every class, you ignorant cow!"

"Miss Granger! Miss Parkinson! Now, that is enough!" said McGonagall, stepping furiously between the feuding girls. Hermione recoiled at the volume of her professor's voice. "Ten points from Slytherin and Gryffindor. And five more points from Gryffindor for you, Mr. Weasley. I will not tolerate this sort of behavior from Prefects!"

Hermione flushed, mortified she had lost her temper. Much more, she had done so in front of a teacher she respected. _Ignorant cow_? That was probably something she had heard Ginny call Fleur over the summer. Definitely not in her repertoire of insults. There was no way Hermione could even look at McGonagall when the moment finally blew over.

"Now then," said McGonagall, huffing a little in annoyance, "you may invite fellow students to join you in your main common room, but they are required to return to their own before curfew. No exception." She waved her wand and the portrait swung open at once to reveal a long hallway with doors on either side. "You will find your names engraved on your proper door, where you will be sleeping."

The Prefects and Heads shuffled into the hall. Pansy bumped into Hermione as she passed, but Hermione ignored her. She wouldn't lose her temper again. At least, not in front of McGonagall. Ten points she had lost for Gryffindor already. Fifteen, if you counted Ron. Ugh.

"What's this door?" Padma asked, stopping at the end of the hall, a golden door with no engraving attached.

"The room was designed for, well, dueling," McGonagall said dryly. "For better preparation for your N.E.W.T.s, but it seems we may have overestimated your sense of maturity."

Even without the incident between Hermione, Ron, and Pansy, it was clear she did not seem so keen on this idea. Her lips pursed, eyes narrowing to slits at each of the students, as though daring them to challenge her.

"We can handle it," said Eddie, "I will make sure it is used purely academically and appropriately."

The Prefects stirred with excitement. Hermione didn't share their enthusiasm. She saw it as a perfect place for Malfoy or Pansy to 'accidently' hex her.

"Very well, Mr. Carmichael," said McGonagall, a little resigned. "This is not just a normal classroom. It will transform itself to be as needed. Whatever you require, it will appear."

Hermione was reminded of the Room of Requirement from her previous year. What if there were two of them? Harry had created "Dumbledore's Army" and taught a bunch of students various spells in the secret room that would transform into whatever the occupant needed. She'd definitely have to remember to tell him about this room.

"As a Prefect and Head Boy and Girl, you are privileged above others," McGonagall went on, all business. "Your N.E.W.T. examinations will be harder than anything you have faced previously. It is advised you have actual practice for the practical portions. However, heed my warning: Any student caught using an Unforgivable Curse or Illegal Hex will be expelled and possibly sent to Azkaban." The Prefects and Heads stiffened. "There is a portrait in the room. Tobias will monitor your practice sessions to make sure all is fair and safe. This is a privilege that will _most certainly_ be taken away if abused." Her gaze met every student, hard, unyielding. "That is all. Please find your rooms and make yourselves at home and prepare yourselves for tomorrows classes. Good night."

Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks, as the anxiety started to settle in. She felt sick to her stomach even thinking about Malfoy. She couldn't do this. She quickly turned to McGonagall, catching her lightly by the arm.

"Professor…" Hermione started, eyes pleading. She found her mouth oddly dry, the words hard to form.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger. This is the wish of the Headmaster," answered Professor McGonagall gravely, appropriately interpreting Hermione's silent plead. She said no more on the subject, but gave Hermione a reproachful look that was not in the slightest bit comforting. "There is nothing I can do."

Hermione stood there, unable to process what was happening around her. So there was no more to have with it, then. She had to live with Malfoy for the year. The thought was so disconcerting she swayed a little.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" Padma asked, steadying her.

"Fine." Hermione looked up and locked gazes with Malfoy, just over Padma's shoulder. His expression was blank, completely masked of emotion. There was a hardness to his face she never noticed before. Maybe it was because he wasn't smirking, smiling, or laughing. He turned without a word and vanished down the hall.

Hermione couldn't help but think—not for the first time—that something was definitely off with him. During most of McGonagall's instruction, his gaze had wandered away. Not like he was rudely blowing her off, but like his mind was somewhere else. Did no one else notice this?

_Harry_, a voice said. Harry had mentioned some kind of, what was it, mission for Malfoy? Something like that? She'd have to ask him again and report this distant, strange behavior.

"Guess this is where we part ways, then," said Ron, shuffling his feet and looking down.

"Guess so." Hermione managed a small smile. "Wait for me in the morning and we'll go to breakfast together."

Ron said his goodbyes and shuffled toward his room, his shoulders drooped incredibly low. Hermione looked in the direction that Malfoy had gone and decided that was the last place she wanted to go right now. Instead, she followed Padma and Hannah toward the Dueling Room.

"Mind if I join you?" Hermione asked, a little too hopefully.

"Of course not," said Hannah, smiling. Her face was round and soft, a sort of kindness in those blue eyes that was hard not to like. "We're sorry you have to live with Malfoy, Hermione."

"Me too," Hermione agreed.

"We wanted to check out this room," said Padma, pushing the door open. "I can't believe we're allowed to duel."

As soon as the three stepped into the room, it transformed into a cozy sitting room. Three large pillow cushions, a blazing fire, thick carpeted floors. If Hermione was allowed, she'd stay in here instead. Her eyes found the portrait of Tobias hanging across the room. He was a scruffy little man with a thick, golden mustache. His expression implied he was bored, as he continued to shuffle a deck of cards in his portrait.

"We should practice dueling sometime," Padma said pleasantly. "Harry taught us loads last year. Be a shame to stop now."

"Maybe next week?" suggested Hannah.

Hermione nodded vaguely, her mind elsewhere. She'd be lucky to live to next week, now that she had to live with Malfoy. She should have asked to see Dumbledore. Tried harder, convinced them to change their mind. Perhaps in the morning, she'd do just that.

Hannah gave her a sudden shake, snapping her out of her misery. "You were brilliant back there, Hermione!"

"Yeah, did you see Pansy's face?" Padma giggled, covering her mouth.

Hermione blushed. "She just gets under my skin."

"Agreed," both girls said in unison.

"So how are you and Michael?" Padma asked. Hermione turned to look at Hannah, who was obviously addressed the question. (Last time she checked_, she_ wasn't dating Michael.)

"Fine, I guess," Hannah replied, shrugging. "I didn't get to see him much over the summer. Mum's been busy at the Ministry and needed me to watch my sister a lot."

The talk of school romances nearly brought a smile to Hermione's face. She had almost forgotten about them. Hannah had been dating Ginny's ex, Michael Corner, since they split last year. But now Ginny was with Dean, even though Hermione was sure Ginny still liked Harry…

She shook her head. Not wanting to get involved in the never-ending love issues that circulate around the school, Hermione made an excuse to leave, saying she was tired and needed a good night's rest.

She found her new 'home' minutes later, but couldn't find the courage to walk inside. So instead she simply stared at the door, as though it might bite her. The plague was by far frightening enough to bite. Written in shiny, silver letters were: _Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy._ Hermione practically threw up in her mouth.

It was the plague that did it. She threw open the door, unable to stare at the taunting letters another moment. Inside was a circular room with a doom shaped ceiling, set a deep greenish blue with painted silver and gold stars. A fire was already crackling, the armchairs that sat in front of it looking as inviting as the ones in Gryffindor Tower. Two desks made of dark wood. An emerald couch, the walls painted a soft gold.

Hermione thought vaguely that it looked like Gryffindor and Slytherin had puked all over it.

At that moment, Malfoy walked in the room. Hermione gave a mental grunt of frustration. The whole point of her going into the Dueling Room was to avoid him, yet here he was. Oh, how her plans always backfire. Lovely. She stood very still while he scanned the room, and for a moment, she got the briefest flash of hope that maybe she could blend into the walls.

Her gaze caught on two doors across the room, the one with the red handle screaming _Escape! _She literally sprinted across the room, looking every bit as cowardly as she felt—

Malfoy's hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing her firmly by the wrist and spinning her to face him.

"I don't need you in my way, Granger," he said coldly. "I know how nosy you are, the way you thrive from butting into other people's business. So here's the deal. You leave me alone—I'll leave you alone."

Hermione was too shocked to do anything but nod. Normally, she would have screamed from his touch, yelled in his face, and maybe even slapped him if she was feeling particularly bold. But the look on his face was actually frightening, and so was his grip around her wrist. He looked like a completely different person than she had grown up knowing.

He dropped her wrist as suddenly as he had grabbed it, strutted across the room, and vanished behind the door with the green knob. Hermione there a moment, completely motionless, trying to absorb what just happened. Had Malfoy just made a truce? What had gotten in to him? She shook her head and followed suit through the red knobbed door.

A spiral staircase led her to another door. She pushed it open quietly. Crookshanks sat on a large red silk bed, his fluffy tail curling around him. Her trunk lay on the floor, unopened. The pillows, a deep gold brushed with crimson tassels. A simple dresser and closet. Another scarlet velvet chair and more gold pillows.

Hermione took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar musty oak and flung herself on the bed, sighing loudly. She lay there for what felt like a half hour, unable to fall asleep. She shivered at the sound of her sigh. It was so…alone. Nothing could be heard aside from Crookshanks's quiet purrs. Having shared a dormitory with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown for five years, she would have died to have a room to herself. Now? Not so much.

So much had happened since last year. Facing the Death Eaters at the Ministry had put her teeth on edge. She needed chatter and noise. Right now, it was uncomfortably too quiet. Even at that, she felt incredibly lonely. She hated being alone, feeling isolated from society—which was practically what she was: isolated. All she had for company in her common room was Malfoy, which was depressing enough.

Well, it didn't have to be that way, did it? The solution was simple enough: she'd avoid their tiny common room and either stay cooped up in her room or go to the main one, the larger one where all the Prefects and Heads could go. There. Easy enough.

Twenty minutes later—and still not being able to fall asleep—Hermione decided to figure out how the bathroom situation would work. Last year she had been privileged to use the large Prefect's bathroom. She doubted the bathroom in this dormitory could trump the previous one, but she wouldn't lose sleep over it.

Hermione made to exit her room but another door caught her eye, one she hadn't noticed before. Had it been there the whole time?

She hopped off of her bed lightly and opened the door. Inside was a large bathroom completely made from white marble. It contained two sinks and a grand bathtub with columns, easily able to fit five people, with tall silver pipes winding in different directions. A toilet, hidden behind a white door, and a glass incased shower. A blank piece of parchment sat by the bathtub. She picked it up—and at her touch, black ink appeared. She nearly dropped it in surprise.

_Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger's Bath Menu for September 1__st__:_

_1. Hydra Wash – An array of blue bubbles will appear to replenish dead skin cells and relax the body completely. A soothing way to end a long day._

_2. Sea Stone Bath – An array of green bubbles mixed with stones from the sea to make your body lose all pain. It is suggested to only bath for fifteen minutes, before the occupant loses feeling in their body permanently._

_3. Floral Fantasies – Pink bubbles with an array of exotic flowers for an aromatic pleasure. Often creates the occupant to become slightly giddy and sometimes a temporary memory loss that should resurface within the hour._

Hermione burst out laughing before she could stop herself. She had never seen a bath menu before. She set the parchment down and grabbed a red cloth from under the sink, washing her face. The warm water felt soothing against her cool skin. With every stroke of the cloth, she felt reality start to sink in. Today starts a day of change, of something new. A clean slate.

She wiped her face free of soap and glanced in the mirror. She screamed and jumped back. Malfoy was standing a few feet behind her, his breath cold on her neck.

"Malfoy! " Hermione shrieked, whipping her body around to face him. "What do you think you're doing? Don't they teach rich boys manners?"

"Of course they do, Granger," he said lightly, "but they teach us to know _who_ should be given manners. And, I'm afraid, Mudbloods don't count. Why should I knock to go to my own bathroom?"

"_Our_ bathroom," Hermione corrected.

"I don't share anything with Mudbloods."

"Oh, grow up Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes. "All you can do is call me a Mudblood. Well, guess what? It's getting old." She turned her back on him, glaring at his reflection. How was _this_ leaving her alone? Where had that truce gone?

"Really?" he hissed low enough to make her hair stand on end. "At least I'm not so pathetic as to hang around a blood traitor trying to get him to notice me as a potential girlfriend because that's the best I can do. Always saving his arse in school and fighting his battles. What high standards you set for yourself Granger: a poor, pathetic, blood traitor."

Hermione stared at him, breathless, like he had punched her in the stomach. She always knew Malfoy was cruel but this below the belt. For her, at least. She could handle name calling—she had grown to Mudblood, actually, and it didn't bother her as much now—but this was humiliating.

She felt cold all over, like her body had been dunked in ice water. She held his gaze for as long as she could before breaking away. She looked down, confidence from before deflating.

"Cat got your tongue?" Malfoy taunted. He didn't sound mocking—bored, even.

Hermione looked up, and that's when she realized something: Malfoy didn't matter. And his insults didn't matter, because she was more than that. She had so much love in her life—friends, family—that no matter how much he threw her way, he couldn't win.

She almost smiled.

"You are a cruel, selfish, miserable human being, aren't you?" she said levelly. "You're the pathetic one, Malfoy. And I feel sorry for you."

She didn't wait for him to respond. Without another glance, she went back to her room, locking the door with enchantments. After she was done, she threw herself onto the bed for the second time tonight. Crookshanks moved to her pillow, just above her head. She swore he gave an approving purr, but of course, she could have imagined it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Man, a lot of dialogue got changed in this chapter from the original. :P I like this version better, fo shizzle. I swear my head shakes in astonishment at some of the things I wrote back in the day. Writing definitely improves over time. :P Thanks for reading!

**jazzy4ever: "I think Hermione's crush on Ron is more pronounced in this version."** - Haha really? I thought I made it less pronounced, lmao. Maybe I made it more pronounced in a less 'in your face' way. :P

**Gin-gin06: "i didn't even notice you kinda had that cliche in there til you pionted it out."** - Probably because the whole dorming together thing is really minor in this, huh? :P I've seen the whole "we have to live together" bit used as a main plotline in many Dramiones but it's so minor in here compared to the real plot. :D

**dramionefanRilla: " I like the new twist although I do miss the Old Version."** - Wait, what new twist? Did I make a new twist in this without realizing? haha


	7. Window to the Soul

**A/N:** Lots of re-writing went into this one. Hope you like it. =)

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><p>"You're gonna catch a cold<br>From the ice inside your soul." - _Jar of Hearts_, Christina Perri

**Chapter 7 – Window to the Soul**

Hermione awoke the next morning to Crookshanks licking her cheek. For a moment she thought she was back at home, but when her eyes finally blinked open, she realized this was _not_ her room and today—today was the first day of classes!

She threw off the covers, nearly knocking Crookshanks off the bed, started scurrying to the bathroom while examining her watch—and then slowed, exhaling deeply. She hadn't overslept, then. She walked into the bathroom and had to squint against the brightness of the marbled room. The only splash of color was from an emerald towel, which hung over the shower, apparently drying.

Had Malfoy already left? No way. Hermione looked back at her watch and frowned. It was half after five in the morning. _Where would he be this early? _she thought. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was a little shocked, not realizing how early Malfoy apparently woke up_. Breakfast isn't served until 7:00, anyway. _She pushed him out of her mind and settled into the bath, announcing out loud that she would like the 'Hydra Wash.'

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><p>The Great Hall was buzzing with sleepy chattering and the clanking of plates and glasses. The ceiling, foggy and heavy, reflected the outside sky. Hermione had just finished a large ration of eggs and toast when the owls swooped down from the ceiling to deliver the morning mail. A large tawny owl landed in front of her, carrying a copy of the <em>Dailey Prophet<em>. She paid the owl and buried her face inside just as Harry and Ron came tottering down Gryffindor table, looking every bit like a zombie. She gave them a rough grunt of acknowledgement when they sat down.

"So it was that bad huh?" asked Harry, glaring at the Slytherin table while spooning eggs onto his plate. A few pieces of egg landed on his lip and he scowled. "Where is the git, anyway?"

"He was gone when I got up this morning," Hermione replied, without looking away from the prophet.

"Who cares?" Ron sounded irritated for some reason and started stabbing pancakes with a fork, slapping them on his plate. "He's probably snogging Parkinson somewhere."

"Or," said Harry, his voice dropping low, "maybe he's working on his mission. You know…for the Death Eaters."

Ron spit pumpkin juice and began to laugh. "Are you mad? Malfoy, a Death Eater? D'you realize what you're saying?"

"You didn't hear him, Ron," said Harry, sounding tired and irritated at the same time. Obviously he had told Ron about the incident on the train, and obviously Ron was not impressed.

"Did you ever think maybe he was showing off?" Ron brought his voice to a whisper. "Harry, You-Know-Who wouldn't let a sixteen year old join. That's insane!"

"How do you know?" Harry's voice had risen; Hermione _shushed _him and nudged him until he lowered it. "It makes sense, though. His father is locked up so now he's going to replace him. What if Voldemort needed someone here?"

Ron spit his juice out again and this time Hermione actually hit him in the shoulder.

"Harry, keep your voice down!" she hissed. Ginny had looked over at his outburst. She eyed Harry suspiciously before continuing her conversation with Dean.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time he wanted someone here," Harry went on stubbornly. "I expect it'll make it a bit easier for him to do me in with someone on the inside."

Hermione frowned. "Harry please. I think Ron's right. He was probably showing off for Pansy. You know how he is."

_Did he, though_? she thought immediately. Did any of them really know Draco Malfoy? The more she thought about it, the odder the situation sounded. Boasting about being a Death Eater was a huge lie to let on. Malfoy was a lot of things—and trying to make himself sound more important than he is definitely wasn't below his standard— but was he bold enough to make up something like that?

Harry only let the issue die after Ron and Hermione tactfully stuffed their faces so much they couldn't talk. Instead he reached into his robes a little roughly and pulled out a large scarlet badge with a golden "C" embroidered on it. He twirled it in his fingers, still looking a little put out.

"It's so exciting you're Captain, Harry," said Hermione impressively, trying to lighten the mood.

"So when's tryouts, Captain?" asked Ron, smiling widely through bits of egg; Hermione was about to be sick from eating so much.

"No idea," said Harry.

Hermione looked up and saw Professor McGonagall walking towards Gryffindor table. Since they were in sixth year now, Professor McGonagall had to review their O.W.L. results in order to make sure everyone was qualified to take on their desired N.E.W.T. classes they had chosen last year.

"A word, Miss Granger," said McGonagall, indicating for them to sit at the less crowded end of the table. Hermione still felt a little embarrassed about what happened with Pansy, so she hung her head a little as she took a seat.

"I presume you are settled well?"

Hermione gave a noncommittal nod. McGonagall seemed pleased Hermione hadn't lashed out in rage over the living situation. She placed two pieces of parchment in front her on the table; one with writing, one completely blank.

"I'd imagine you wish to continue in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, and Transfiguration?"

"Yes, Professor," said Hermione. "I'll have to drop Care for Magical Creatures and Muggle Studies."

"Very well, you are cleared," said McGonagall, waving her wand toward the blank parchment, as it began to fill with Hermione's new schedule.

Hermione nodded and began to rise from the table when McGonagall placed a hand on her wrist softly. She gazed at the old professor and saw a face lined with worry and concern.

"Miss Granger," said McGonagall in a quiet voice, "I know this situation is difficult to accept but Professor Dumbledore believes uniting Gryffindor and Slytherin may be more beneficial than you can imagine."

Hermione hardly thought Draco Malfoy was the voice for all of Slytherin and said, "He's only one Slytherin, Professor."

"And Harry Potter is only one Gryffindor and look what he's accomplished," said McGonagall. She tilted her face down, peering at Hermione over thin rimmed spectacles. "And the same can be said for _you_, Miss Granger."

"I'll try, Professor."

"Good," said McGonagall, standing up. "It is imperative that you do."

Hermione smiled weakly and glanced at her schedule. She had Ancient Runes first with—_ugh_, she thought—the Slytherins. She made her way back to Harry and Ron, as McGonagall was now speaking with a very nervous looking Neville.

"Taking twenty classes this year, are we?" asked Ron, peering at Hermione's schedule.

"Funny, Ron." She made a face at him. "I'm afraid we broke all the timeturner's last year, so no. I better get going to Runes, though. See you all later."

"You still have fifteen minutes!" Ron protested, but Hermione was already flying out of the Great Hall. She prided herself in being the first to arrive in each class on the first day. Professors noticed that kind of thing, of course.

Ancient Runes was located on the ground level near the Transfiguration Classroom, so the walk from the Great Hall was not far. Hermione opened the door and saw old Professor Vector shuffling a pile of papers together at her desk.

"Good morning Professor Vector," Hermione greeted. "Did you have a nice holiday?"

Professor Vector smiled sweetly, her dark blue eyes nearly lost in an abundance of wrinkles. She wore heavy robes, pulling down her long face, making her look like a wilting plant.

"Yes dear," Vector replied. "It was lovely but rather a bit too quick for my liking. And yourself?"

"It was fine," said Hermione. "I did a lot of reading actually. I really wanted to discuss something I read about the Egyptians on Chapter Twelve. Did they really u—"

"Hermione, my dear!" Vector let out a raspy chuckle. "Let us wait until we reach Chapter twelve before we begin to discuss it."

Hermione blushed and took a seat in the second row. She felt a little anxious considering this was the first time she wouldn't be in classes with her usual classmates. They were in N.E.W.T.'s now, which meant classes comprised of sixth _and_ seventh years. Hermione hardly knew any of the seventh year Gryffindors. Maybe Katie was taking this class.

Ten minutes later students began to file through the doors. Hermione hastily stacked her books and papers over and over, spreading them slightly onto her neighbor's desk. She would rather sit alone, she decided, and wanted to indicate that fact by crowding her area. The chair next to her skidded across the tile, making her wince. She glanced up hesitantly to reveal a blond haired boy, scowling so harshly it might become permanent.

Hermione gave the loudest internal sigh that might have come out externally.

"Honestly Malfoy, couldn't you sit anywhere else?" she asked, annoyed, as she gestured around the room. But her gesturing slowed, and her hand dropped limply. There were no other seats available and there was also no Katie.

"Obviously, Granger, all the other seats are taken." He brushed her papers off his desk roughly, causing them to fly in all directions. "Get these off my desk."

Hermione scowled, snatching up her papers. "But how're you in here? I mean, this is N.E.W.T. level." she clarified.

"Wow, perceptive Granger," said Malfoy. "Clearly I'm not as dim witted as you seem to think I am."

"I didn't say…I was just shocked…that's all." Hermione blushed, frustrated, as she turned away to face Professor Vector.

"Good morning class," said Vector warmly. "As you know, this year we are preparing for N.E.W.T. level examinations. You will be asked to make many difficult translations and be able to recognize different runes from the ancient Germanic Alphabet. As we recall, runes are simply a symbol written thousands of years ago, a symbol with meaning that we must learn to decipher."

She picked up a stack of parchment, wrinkled fingers curling around the edges. She smiled and went on,

"Today we will begin by attempting to read possibly the most difficult rune of all—" she paused for effect "—ourselves."

The class stirred. Hermione had no idea what Professor Vector was talking about, not recalling this from any of the first several chapters. Perhaps she had overlooked it? She quickly opened her book to find the relevant chapter when Professor Vector chuckled.

"Hermione, this lesson will not be found in your book."

Hermione frowned. Malfoy shifted in his seat, covering his mouth to hide his smirk. She did not miss it. She shot him a look of death before giving Professor Vector a weak, apologetic smile, even though on the inside she was panicking. They were veering off schedule already; what if they don't get through all the chapters before the end of the year?

"Firstly, please direct your attention to the person beside you," said Vector, oblivious to Hermione's torment. "This will be your partner for the first part of term."

Some of the class groaned. Some sounded pleased. Some, like Hermione, resisted the urge to run into the wall and render themselves unconscious. Was she ever going to get rid of Malfoy?

"Introduce yourselves," Vector went on. "You will need to become acquaintances; part of your grade will depend on each other."

Now this was going too far. Hermione's mouth dropped in indignation. Her grade? Her _grade_ would depend on Malfoy? What did she do to deserve this punishment?

Hermione's hand shot in the air, ready to protest, but the professor waved her off.

"Group work is essential in translations," said Vector. "Gaining second and third opinions. Please take the next ten minutes or so to answer the following questions about your partner." She waved her wand, and the parchment she had been carrying soared onto the students' desks. "Write your answers on the parchment, so I know it was completed. You will receive full marks for the assignment upon completion. Begin."

Hermione stared at her parchment, hoping it would answer itself. Three minute went by and it seemed the parchment _wouldn't_ be cooperating. She sighed. There were only six questions. How bad could it be? She turned to Malfoy, who was scowling at Vector. Apparently he was about as happy as she was.

"Let's get this over with," Hermione grumbled, scanning the first question. "Wha—"

"What's your middle name?" Malfoy interrupted bluntly.

"Such manners you have. Mine's Jean. Yours?"

Malfoy snorted. "Abraxas."

She shot him a nasty look. "What's so funny?"

"Jean is so filthy," said Malfoy with a shiver. "So _Muggle_."

"It's after my dead grandmother," Hermione snapped at him. "I can see how you'd find humor in that."

"Obviously I didn't know that, Granger," Malfoy snarled.

Hermione tried to control her smile. Jean was actually her mother's middle name, not her grandmother's. And neither one of them were dead, but Malfoy didn't need to know that.

She wrote 'Abraxas' on her parchment and moved on to the second question.

"Okay, number two…you're in Slytherin…don't need to ask that. Number three…Oh! This is interesting." She sat up a little straighter, a little curious to hear his answer. "What spell would you like to learn more about?"

"Calm down, Granger," said Malfoy, quirking a brow. "People might think you're enjoying yourself."

She remained silent, waiting for his answer while thinking of her own. After a minute went by, Malfoy sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"This is stupid, Granger."

"I don't care!" She snapped. "I'm not losing easy points because _you_ think it's stupid. We have to work together whether we like it or not and I will not accept anything but an 'Outstanding' on my exam." She could feel the stares of the students around her but she refused to back down. "Now answer the damn question!"

"The Cruciatis Curse," he finally said, a challenging note to his voice, as though he only said it to catch her reaction.

Hermione stared for a moment, her expression locking into something bleak. When it was clear he was not joking, she nodded awkwardly, wanting to move on to the next question.

"And let me guess yours," Malfoy went on, "the Densaugeo Charm? I was under the impression you enjoyed your teeth being modified."

"Actually," said Hermione, feigning sweetness, "I was trying to remember what Crouch used on you to turn you into a ferret."

"I'm putting the Densaugeo Charm," he said threateningly.

"You do that." She gave an annoyed huff and read the next question. "Best friend…is it Crabbe or Goyle?"

"Neither."

Hermione looked up. "What?"

"Don't act so surprised. It's not like you know me, Granger," said Malfoy. "Blaise Zabini is my best friend."

No, she supposed she didn't, but she couldn't recall a time of ever seeing Malfoy with Blaise Zabini. It was always Crabbe, Goyle, or Pansy. Speaking of Blaise, he too was in this same very class, which brought up a point.

"Then why aren't you sitting with him?"

"Clearly, because Daphne is sitting there."

Hermione glanced into the direction of Blaise. Sure enough, Daphne Greengrass, a sixth year Slytherin with long dark hair and deep set blue eyes sat next to Blaise. She was leaning toward Blaise, a little too close for normal comfort, and continuously bat her eyes so much in his direction, that Hermione thought her lashes may stick together. Daphne was gorgeous, of course, but Merlin was she fake.

"And yours is," said Malfoy, sitting back leisurely in his seat, "the chosen one…the blood traitor…or the blood traitor's sister?"

Hermione stared at him. "You are horribly offensive."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Harry," she answered. "If I had to choose, I'd say Harry."

"What a bloody surprise." He scribbled it down on his parchment. "What's your dearest ambition? Reading every book ever written in Britain?"

Hermione sat back in her desk, thinking hard, ignoring his comment. This was a tough question. She wasn't sure she had a single dearest ambition, but one certainly stuck out.

"For good to overrule evil in this world." She dared herself to ask, ready to accept his sure to be awful answer about Muggleborns and Muggles. "And yours?"

"For my family to be normal again," he said so quickly, the comment seemed to take him off guard as well as hers. He sat forward, elbows pressed on his knees and said, "What was that?"

Hermione just stared at him, her quill slacking in her hand. For a moment, Malfoy seemed to be somewhere else, caught in a memory or dream. Despite everything, Hermione couldn't help feeling slightly sorry for him as she remembered his mother in Diagon Alley.

The moment only lasted a few seconds.

"Stop looking at me like that," he snapped at her, anger now rising in his face.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered, copying down his answer. She needed to stop feeling sorry for the stupid ferret. "Last question...we have to describe each other in five words."

She bit her lip, trying to think what to say. Should she be rude or honest? It was a tough call, though with Malfoy, honesty and rudeness seemed to be a blurred line. Anything she said truthfully about him would likely sound rude.

He spent next to no time on the last question. With a wave of his wand, the parchment soared to Vector's desk. Hermione huffed dramatically; she wanted to see his answer, no matter how mean it might be.

_Five words? _she thought_. Well, 'determined' is definitetly one. How about rude, selfish, self-absorbed prat? No, I suppose I shouldn't write that. 'Smug.' Yes, that's not too rude. What else…well he's 'witty,' though I don't like admitting it. And he's 'stubborn.' Gosh, I actually sound somewhat nice. This is mad….okay one more. _

She looked at him from behind her curtain of wavy curls. She thought suddenly of Diagon Alley, and his mother, who was hurting because of something he was going to do. Hermione wrote the final word, 'loyal,' on her parchment. He may be loyal to the wrong people, but he was committed none the less.

The rest of the class finished within minutes, and Vector stood up and smiled.

"I hope you learned something about your partner. For our next assignment, you will come up to the front of the classroom, without your wand."

This time almost everyone in the class groaned. Magic without wands was a very difficult feat. Possible, yes but Hermione had only seen Dumbledore do it. Surely Vector wasn't going to ask them such a thing?

"The window to the heart and soul is through the eyes," said Vector. "The eyes show more emotional than anything else on our bodies. Aside from using Legilimency, the only way to seek an emotion or memory from another is to be connected emotionally. I have just allowed you to pour part of your emotions to your partner, though you were unwillingly doing so."

Hermione had to hold back a snort. Vector sounded too much like Professor Trelawney.

"Allow the magic in the room to sweep over your senses. Let your guard down and open your hearts. So very often we forget that magic lies within us, not just in our wands." She paused a moment before continuing.

"I want you to read your partner like you would a rune, by reading their eyes. Tell us what you saw and felt. Describe it in a single word. First up, Mr. Parker and Miss Jenson."

_This is going to be so awkward and horrible, _Hermione thought, mentally slapping herself in the forehead. As if the questions weren't enough.

Oliver Parker and Margaret Jenson stood facing each other at the front of class, both serious and solemn. Hermione felt the atmosphere of the room change, wondering whether or not Professor Vector was doing it for effect. She could have sworn she heard Vector mutter something in another tongue. How odd.

After a few moments of intense gazing, as though each were trying to burn the other on the spot with their eyes, Oliver turned to look at Professor Vector, who nodded.

"Contentment."

Everyone turned to face Margaret who replied, "Nervous."

Nothing too exciting happened from there on out, but the intense feeling of the room continued. Blaise Zabini had said to Cormac McLaggen from Gryffindor, "coward," when asked to answer Professor Vector. Being called a coward was one of the foulest things a person could say to a Gryffindor. Cormac was a handsome, large, broad boy that Hermione made a mental note to never get on his bad side. His response to Blaise's comment was "Azkaban."

The whole room broke out into shouting. Both boys started to move forward with their jaws tightened and fists clenched—apparently ready to fight the Muggle way, wands forgotten.

Vector shouted, "_Protego!" _and the boys were instantly shot backwards. She took a few minutes to calm them down as she threatened them with a month's detention.

"We have our last pair," she said over the class once all was calm. "Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, please proceed to the front."

Hermione got up hesitantly; dread filling every step she took toward the front of the room. Malfoy was standing, waiting, with his hands in his pockets. His deep, steel grey eyes were cold and unwelcoming. Sighing to herself, she relaxed her body completely and only focused on his eyes. Something in the air changed, like an electric current. Did anyone else feel it?

Malfoy's eyes, Hermione noticed, were like pools of icy water, frozen, but something burning and menacing brewing below the surface. They were clear, almost sparkly, like silver stars. If they belonged to anyone else, Hermione might have thought they were pretty, if maybe a little warmer.

The room faded along the edges, like burning paper, the longer she stared at him. There was something in those hollow, icy eyes that pinned her in place, like she was under his control.

Ridiculous! her mind screamed.

Heat rose to her cheeks. Heart pounding in her chest, she felt it tighten.

The intensity of Malfoy's stare was like nothing Hermione had ever experienced. She felt like she couldn't look away; in fact, she was sure she couldn't. Though his eyes certainly looked like ice, they burned like fire, but for all their coldness, what was brewing under the surface?

That was the puzzle here, she thought. Something was there, under the hardness of ice, she could see that now. Maybe it was because for the first time in her life she bothered to look. But it was cold and hard and not at all pleasant, something that froze it's way all the way to his soul, she thought.

_His eyes aren't pretty_, Hermione thought. _They're cold and dead and lifeless_.

When she finally ripped her gaze away, the classmates were huddled together, whispering. Blaise Zabini had his head tilted to the side, his mouth hanging slightly open, looking at both Hermione and Malfoy in contemplation. Cormac McLaggen was staring boldly, his hand stroking his chin like something you only see in the movies.

A little confused, Hermione looked back at Malfoy—and nearly jumped back. He wasn't looking at her, but at his feet, but that wasn't what surprised her. What surprised her was that she was standing very, very close to him. An arm's length away. How had _that_ happened?

She took two steps back for good measure.

"I daresay the two of you have a history? There is a wild force between the lot of you," said Vector, her voice sounding again very much like Trelawney. "So very interesting…Well, tell me what you saw?"

"Trapped," Hermione answered at once, thinking of the storm hidden beneath the surface.

Malfoy was a little more thoughtful in his answer. He watched her, drawing out the moment, making her anxious. Hermione was sure he was thinking of the meanest, most horrible thing he could get away with. But when he finally answered, it was anything but insulting, and yet it felt ten times worse.

"Lonely."

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading. =) Does anyone have any recommendations for Dramiones? I prefer good plots, adventure, action, with romance. Not a fluff fest. :P

**Chichi: "Hey, cool story, your writing styly is really interesting, it's not so focused at Hermione and Draco like most stories are, but develops also another characters."** - Thanks! I think plot is the most important thing in a story, as well as developing more than just the main characters. =)

**Alenerien: "Although I kind of missed argument between Draco and Ron before they took off to their rooms."** - I was reading it and thought I might have made Ron too hostile..Draco as well. :P There will be arguements don't worry..just more realistic ones.

**midnight shadow of darkness: "I was a bit sadden to read when the story pointen out Dumbledore's blacken hand. Does that mean he will pass away like the book?"** - I can't say..you'll have to wait and see! (By the way, great to meet another Zutara fan! I've written several for that genre if you want to check them out..The Black Games is my favorite)

**E.C Silence: "I was wondering how much will the plot change from the actual sixth book?"** - The main plot, not so much, because that's pretty central to the story. But the minor and subplots will be different since we're experiencing them through Hermione's point view. =)


	8. Fire and Ice

**A/N:** Thank you for your patience! I got a new laptop and had to wait until my stuff was transfered over. Enjoy!

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><p>"Some say the world will end in fire,<p>

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice." - _Fire and Ice_, Robert Frost

**Chapter 8 - Fire and Ice**

Harry and Ron were both waiting for Hermione outside the door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, both looking tired and glum, like they wished for the day to end already.

"How was Runes?" Ron asked.

"It was quite interesting, to say the least," Hermione answered. "Come on, let's find seats."

As they made their way into the classroom, Professor Snape was busying himself by hanging portraits on the stone walls with his wand. One of the portraits revealed a tufty haired wizard repeatedly running into a brick wall, as though he was programmed to behave as such. Another, a witch twitching on the ground, her body convulsing as she shook with silent screams. Hermione looked away and took a seat next to Harry, shivering slightly. There were only two to a table, which left Ron standing a little awkwardly. Hermione was about to offer him her seat so he could sit next to Harry when a giggly voice called out,

"Hey Ron, you can sit with me!" A snicker. "Only if you want to."

Hermione turned sharply to see Lavender Brown smiling from ear to ear, a few seats back. Lavender was a fellow sixth year Gryffindor with a round face, rosy cheeks, and light brown, straggly hair that was currently pulled back in a messy braid. Ron's ears burned scarlet and he remained still until she patted the next to him, and he finally sauntered over to her direction.

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She didn't have a problem with Lavender, but she had this annoying niche for swooning over every male in the school, believing each one of them at some point was 'the one.' Hermione had shared a dormitory with her for five years and had heard enough about those annoying and childish romances to last a lifetime. Lavender thrived on gossip and boys, with her best friend Parvati Patil. The two girls were practically joined at the hip—perhaps Parvati hadn't made it into this class?—otherwise Lavender would be sitting with her.

Scanning the room, Hermione was surprised to find that Parvati was actually sitting with Seamus directly behind Lavender and Ron. The girls were bent close, whispering furiously with Seamus and Ron carrying on a conversation. Hermione turned back to the front of the room quite stiffly, feeling a little put out for some reason.

Professor Snape finished with the last portrait and turned to address the class. The room fell silent at once, as it always did in his presence. His jet black hair lay motionless on his shoulders, his long nose and black eyes giving him a rather sallow and daunt look.

"Nearing your N.E.W.T. year, you as a class are very far behind." As always, his voice was toneless and chilly. "I expected nothing less, having taken into account your previous wizarding teachers….Well," said Snape, his lip curling maliciously, "all but one I believe would classify as a _wizard_."

"I s'pose you're talking about Quirrell?" Harry snapped. "I wouldn't call someone with Voldemort attached to his head a wizard either."

Several students gasped. Others shot an alarming look at Snape. Hermione simply stared at Harry, shocked. She could not believe he said that, out lout, to Snape. The entire room was silent as they looked back and forth between Harry and Snape, like they were watching an intense Quidditch match.

Snape's lip curled as he spoke, "Mr. Potter, perhaps you are under the assumption that being 'The Chosen One' gives you the right to voice your redundant opinion. Fifteen points from Gryffindor and detention on Saturday, I think."

Hermione smacked Harry lightly in the arm once Snape turned around, "Harry, that wasn't necessary. Fifteen points!"

"Was it necessary to lose points when you called Pansy Parkinson a cow?" said Harry in a rushed whisper. Hermione flushed, thinking _word travels fast_ was a huge understatement. "Besides, he was talking about Lupin. I'm not going to just sit here and let that git insult him."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but Snape began to speak again.

"The Dark Arts are a very extensive case of magic. You will find that it takes much more than memorizing spells and shouting incantations. As of now, your practices have shown how weak and behind you truly are. In a real fight, you will have no help. You will have no guidance or support. You will be alone, with your wand and your mind. Closing your mind to your attacker is a critical practice in dueling. A difficult feat for some,"—his eyes landed on Harry, a sneer on his lips—"but not impossible."

Hermione put a hand on Harry's arm, silently pleading him to be silent.

"In groups of two, you will both attempt to disarm your opponent non-verbally," Snape went on. "We will practice one group at a time, so I can properly evaluate your practices. Those who _are_ capable of shutting their mind to a simple spell will move on to a more complicated one."

Snape's eyes lingered on Malfoy, causing a huge grin to spread across his already arrogant face.

"First, Mr. Zabini and Miss Patil," Snape announced, and everyone got up out of their seats. He waved his wand and the chairs and desks disappeared.

The class stood in a large circle allowing Blaise and Parvati to stand in the center, opposite one another. Blaise towered over Parvati, with his dark skin and daunting demeanor. He might have been handsome, if he wasn't drowning in smugness. Parvati's dark, tiny frame didn't seem to stand a chance. Her wand was already trembling. They both looked at Snape, wands at the ready.

"On three you may begin," Snape instructed. "One…two…._three_."

Nothing happened. Both Zabini and Parvati looked as though they might be sick. Parvati's face was fluctuating between various shades of purple, while Blaise looked as if was trying to bite through his own teeth. It might have been comical if it was anyone but Snape teaching the lesson. After nearly five, painfully long, minutes, Snape hissed.

"You are not trying hard enough! Weasley, Longbottom, you next."

The second attempt was nearly as bad as the first, and poor Neville was trembling all over. After a few minutes, Hermione thought she heard Ron whisper, "_Expelliarmus!"_

Neville's wand flew out of his hand, scattering across the floor. A huge grin spread across Ron's face as the Gryffindors applauded loudly. Snape however, looked enraged.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," he said, the cheering dying at once, "for being a complete cheat and embarrassment; although, I would expect nothing less from you, Weasley." Snape turned to the class; Ron stalked back to the circle, red faced and scowling. "Is there anyone here capable of this task?"

Hermione raised her hand tentatively. "I'd like to try, Professor Snape," she mumbled, barely audible. _Try_ was the operative word.

Snape sneered and turned to Pansy Parkinson. "Miss Parkinson, join Miss Granger."

Pansy looked like there could be no higher honor and stepped into the circle, her dark eyes bulging with excitement.

Hermione couldn't decide if she should glare or smile at the opportunity, at the chance of getting to disarm Pansy. Hermione had tried a few simple non-verbal spells over the summer and found them quite difficult; however, she had not wanted to prove herself more than this moment, and determination was the key to non-verbal spells.

She gripped her wand tightly and concentrated on the incantation '_Expelliarmus'_ as hard as she could in her mind, remembering the theory of the spell and why it's used. She channeled all her energy into the process of disarming Pansy.

"Begin," said Snape.

_Expelliarmus! _Hermione shouted in her head.

Pansy's wand flew across the room like Neville's had done. The Gryffindors roared with applause, far louder than they had with Ron. Seamus whistled loudly and Harry was grinning. Ron however, looked a cross between annoyed and amazed.

"Excellent," said Snape in a bored voice, cutting off the applause. "The brightest witch in the year has managed to read a book possibly more times than any other soul alive."

The Slytherins broke out into a cry of laugher. Hermione flushed in embarrassment. Hadn't she just performed the spell correctly? Why did Snape have to constantly put her down for achieving his expected goals? Deep down, she wanted to shout at him. Any normal professor would have awarded her at least ten points for a first time attempt at a non-verbal spell. But then again, Snape was not a normal professor.

"Let's try someone else, shall we? How about"—Snape's eyes scanned the room, as though truly contemplating, before they rested on an arrogant, narrow face—"Ah yes, Mr. Malfoy."

Snape had obviously done this to further antagonize Hermione, but as Malfoy strode to the center of the circle, she felt more than satisfied. If she could disarm Pansy, then why not Malfoy as well? Though Snape did not realize it, he was giving her a wonderful opportunity to truly embarrass Malfoy.

She grinned at him.

"Begin."

"_Expelliarmus!" _Malfoy shouted, waving his wand in one single, fluid motion.

It was oddly like slow motion. Hermione watched her wand fly out of her hand and into Malfoy's, too shocked by his verbal use-age to produce a proper Shield Charm. Her mouth dropped to the floor as she nearly screamed, "You're supposed to use the spell NON-VERBALLY Malfoy!"

"Oh, that's right. I'm terribly sorry," he said, in a voice that was clear he wasn't sorry at all.

Hermione turned, opened mouthed to Snape, who gave a perplexed little shrug. Ron lost his nerve.

"So _he_ can use it verbally and I lose twenty points when I do?" His voice was of utmost protest and rage.

Suddenly the Gryffindors drowned the room in outbursts, their arms waving and flailing in protest. Seamus's thick Irish accent stood out loudly over the chaos of voices.

"Enough," Snape hissed, his voice not loud, but somehow carrying over the other shouts. "This has proven to be a waste of my time. Class dismissed. Practice your non-verbal spells, for I shall know if you did not. Potter?"

"Yes," replied Harry hesitantly.

"Yes, sir."

"There is no need to call me sir, professor,"

Snape might have burned holes through Harry's face with the intensity of his eyes. Hermione was speechless but Ron was grinning.

"In…my…office…now," Snape said quietly, his voice stinging like venom. "The same to you, Weasley."

"You shouldn't have said that," Hermione whispered to Harry; but he shrugged and followed Ron to Snape's office.

She decided to take her time—to make sure Snape didn't decide to kill them—and stacked her things methodically. Only once she had finished did she realize something was missing. She looked around wildly to see Malfoy standing in the doorway, twirling her wand in his hands. She froze, and then got herself together.

"Give me my wand, Malfoy," she said, as calmly as she could.

Malfoy thought about it, and then, "I don't think I will, Mudblood. As I see it, we both have free periods and you don't really need it until your next class. I always wondered how a Mudblood's wand would work in the hands of a Pureblood." His lip curled, eyes shining. "Well, I'm sure it would be more loyal and promising."

He shrugged and walked out of the door.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot before she remembered her feet were not glued to the floor. She grabbed her things hastily and stormed out of the door, leaving Harry and Ron to fight Snape off themselves. She followed Malfoy at a distance, quickening her pace as she looked around to make sure no one would hear her tantrum.

"Malfoy!" she shouted. "This is absurd. Ten points from Slytherin!"

Malfoy kept walking as he spoke, "You can't take points away from another Prefect. Come on Granger. You of all should know the rules."

She caught up with him just outside the vampire's portrait. She practically shouted '_blood'_ at Vladimir. He glared at her unnecessary hostility and swung forward. The Prefect Common Room was deserted.

Hermione tossed her books down on a couch and took several long strides before she collided into Malfoy's back; he had halted just before the Hogwarts portrait, completely hard and solid and still. She started to fall backwards at the impact, but Malfoy turned around suddenly and grabbed the front of her robes, pulling her forward. She tried to get her footing but the shock of him touching her made her brain freeze. Malfoy blinked, looking shocked, and then he let go of her, causing her to once again fall backwards and land with a loud thud.

Hermione sat there for a moment, stunned. She didn't gather herself until the hissing of the portrait reached her ears. She bolted to her feet—and the portrait swung shut. She tried to touch the red part of the shield with her hand, but it burned her fingers and she yanked her hand back with a wince.

"Malfoy! Let me in, right now!" Hermione yelled through the portrait, feeling rather stupid.

She could just make out a feint, bitter laugh. "See you in Potions, Mudblood."

Out of pure rage, Hermione grabbed a rickety, wooden chair and threw it at the portrait. It remained sealed. She was so angry, angrier than she had ever been at him before. _How dare him! How dare he take my wand and lock me out of my own room! And of course no other Prefect is here! _But of course, she knew, the only other Prefect that had a free period was Pansy, and she was as likely to let her in as Snape letting Harry off detention.

* * *

><p>Hermione had given up after fifteen minutes and retired to the couch, reading her copy of <em>Advanced Potion Making<em>. She had planned on waiting for Ron to let her in—because surely he'd come to the common room after Snape's lecture. But, no. He never showed up, which meant that most likely he was with Harry, and Harry had no reason to come to their dormitories.

She slammed the book shut. Even Potions couldn't hold her attention. Right now she could care less about the cause and effect of the Draught of Living Death. Having her wand missing was like missing an arm or a leg, or some other crucial piece of your soul. Hermione needed a distraction before she destroyed yet another piece of furniture.

Deciding to write her parents, she pulled out a piece of parchment and quill, placing them both on one of the empty wooden desks.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_How are you? Today is my first day at school and I'm already stressed out. Sixth year Prefect's now have to live with another and of course, I'm living with the boy I hate more than receiving low marks. It's Draco Malfoy, the one I've told you about before. So it's safe to say it's going to be a long year. I got my O.W.L results back a few weeks ago, all 'Outstandings' with one 'Exceeds Expectations.' I was quite pleased. Well, I hope everything is well at home. I miss you both and will write again soon._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

She stared at it a moment, and realized it sounded more like a rant. Hermione sighed. Well, maybe it was a rant, but her parents would want to know about her O.W.L.'s. She folded the letter and when she tucked it in her pocket, the portrait swung open. Malfoy stood, as usual, dripping in amusement and arrogance. Hermione looked at his hands. They were empty.

"Where's my wand?" She asked, getting to her feet.

Malfoy looked over at the broken chair and then back to her, eyes narrowing.

"You should really work on your temper. It doesn't make you a very becoming witch, and really, you need all the help you can get."

Hermione scowled. "Thank you, because your opinion matters to me."

He did not seem to hear her, but was looking at her in a way that made her skin crawl. Like he knew one of her darkest secrets—but how could he?—or like he was the predator and she his prey.

"What do you want?" she said, because he seemed to be waiting for her to ask.

"You."

Hermione stared, ears ringing. "What?"

He pointed the wand in her face. "You, in the Dueling Room. Now."

_Was he serious?_ she thought wildly. It appeared so, because he turned and walked back into the hallway—Hermione had to lunge with an arm out to stop the portrait from shutting. He was waiting for her in the Dueling Room, and when the door slammed shut, she jumped.

The room was completely blank and bear, nothing but a solid white room, empty of furnishes and décor.

Malfoy threw Hermione's wand at her feet. "I've been waiting for this since our second year," he said, eyes glowing with excitement.

"I'm not dueling you, Malfoy," Hermione gritted.

"Scared, Granger?" He folded his arms across his chest, slouching back against the door.

She felt her face burn with anger. "No, I'm not scared! But I'm not going to resort to your level of insolence!"

"We never properly fought non-verbally now did we? So who's to say your better than me?"

Hermione shot him the nastiest look she could muster. How like Malfoy to challenge her, when he knew she could hardly stand down. Competitiveness was in her nature, and he was fueling off it. Of course she could beat him. And really, now that she thought about it, what was wrong with practicing? After all, the Dueling Room was supposed to be for the Prefects, and Tobias was in his portrait. There was a witness.

"Alright Malfoy." Hermione grinned, though it was not pretty. "Let's duel." She picked up her wand and turned to face him. He was holding his wand at the ready, his eyes determined and focused. "Non-verbally only?"

His jaw tightened and he inclined his head, slowly. "Of course."

Hermione's smug face faltered for a moment. Malfoy's expression was cold and blank, completely emotionless. He was so still, he could have been carved from stone. She wondered if maybe this wasn't such a grand idea.

_Expelliarmus! _she thought suddenly, waving her wand swiftly, not bothering to wait.

Malfoy blocked her spell non-verbally. She gasped—she half expected him to shout. He shot something with blue flames in her direction. She ducked out of the way with her mouth hanging open. Blue flames? Was he trying to kill her? Probably.

Hermione gritted her teeth and shot a non-verbal stunning spell over her shoulder. Deflected again. She cursed herself for this stupid room. If only she had cover…

The moment the thought went through her mind the room transformed into an outdoors landscape, with large grey, cracked boulders and thick trees for shelter. The ceiling transformed into the sky—silver grey, cloudy and thick—and the once marble floor turned into soft, mushy grass.

Hermione threw herself behind a boulder, mentally shouting _Stupefy!_

Malfoy ducked behind a tree and the spell collided into a crooked boulder, splitting it in half.

She inhaled the fresh smell of pine and oak, exhaling in frustration. A torrent of fire rushed at her and once again, Hermione had to lunge out of the way. She gasped for a breath, hiding behind a disfigured tree.

The room was silent except for her heavy breathing. Now that all was still, she felt incredibly idiotic for landing herself in such a stupid situation. Dueling Room or no Dueling Room, this was not the brightest idea she had ever agreed upon. Then again, she had also agreed to waltz into the Ministry of Magic last year to fight Voldemort after Harry's vision of seeing Sirius tortured, even though they had no evidence to support his theory.

Okay, so she didn't think _everything_ through all the time.

The silence was beginning to unnerve her. She had no idea where Malfoy was, or what he was planning. She swallowed hard and peered around from the tree, dark curls falling into her face. The room was a haze of colors, smoke and debris covering almost every square inch. Hermione took a deep breath, clearing her head. She had to get out of here—this was proving most stupid. She gripped her wand tightly and jumped into the clearing. She saw a flash of blonde—

_Impedimenta!_

As Hermione cast her spell, Malfoy seemed to cast one simultaneously. Her red sparks met his blue in the middle. The two spells exploded at the touch and repelled around the entire room, dressing the room in specks of blue and red. Hermione flung herself to the ground, covering her head from the brightness and explosion.

The blast was so loud it rang in her ears—idly she wondered if anyone could hear them. Hermione coughed, covering her mouth from the ash and smoke. She blinked, and finally her eyes adjusted to the blurry room, taking in its newly damaged appearance.

Several trees were split in half; some stood tall, unwavering, while some had crashed to the ground. Even through the hazy smoke, Malfoy's platinum blonde hair was hard to miss. He was lying on the ground, not moving, and barely breathing.

Hermione got up slowly, still coughing, and trudged her way over to him. He was propped on his elbows, head bent over coughing. His legs were lodged under a large, heavy looking tree branch. He had grass stains and ash caked onto his robes, his face covered in soot.

"Get this bloody thing off me!"

For a moment, Hermione actually thought of leaving him here. _Serves him right_, she thought, _dragging me in here_.

She bent down so they were eye to eye. "This is the part where you admit you lose," she said.

His gaze snapped to hers in pure rage. "_Never_."

"Well, then," she said, shrugging, "I suppose you'll just have to sit here all day."

He glared at her; she glared back. She had the upper hand in the situation and he knew it. He had no wand, no way of moving the branch—it was much too heavy.

She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting.

"I will admit," he said, very slowly, "that if you don't remove this blasted thing, you will regret it when I get out of here."

He was probably right, she thought with disdain. While Malfoy was no more than a bully, he would likely get her back through a means of public humiliation, and that was not something she could defend.

She groaned and muttered, "_Wingardium Leviosa," _and lifted the branch from his legs_. _He got up hastily and brushed off his robes in disgust.

"I suppose a thank you would be a stretch?" Hermione hissed, offended at his lack of manners.

"Why should I thank you? Look what you did!" Malfoy gestured around the room angrily. It still appeared to be a disheveled outdoor landscape, the sky a smoky bluish-red. Several branches were hanging awkwardly by their limbs, singed with red fire. It was hard to see clearly through the thick haze and ash and smoke.

"What I did?" Hermione retorted, anger rising in her face. She huffed loudly, blowing a piece of her hair that didn't want to stay behind her ear. "I didn't do anything! You shot dirty spells my way and I tried to defend myself!"

Malfoy glared and stalked past her, knocking into her as he passed. He walked straight to the door and pulled. But it didn't budge. It was locked.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading! I hope the time lapse didn't kill off my readers, haha. I'll be updating within the week! And thank you for the story recommendations..if you come across any other good ones, let me know! :D

**Misty: "I've got a question is Harry going to be so obsessed by the idea of Draco being a Death Eater in your story?"** - I wouldn't say obsessed. :P But you'll have to wait and see!

**Crazygirl: "I'm quite curious about how Draco described Hermione in 5 words."** - I wrote that down, acutally, lol. I will probably share it with you all later on. :P

**Lesohul: "I like how you written McGonagall perfectly in character."** - Thank you so much! She's tough to write. I get a lot of feedback on Hermione, Draco, Harry and Ron, but not so much the teachers so I appreciate your comment!


	9. At Wits End

**A/N:** Sorry for the wait, guys! Thanks for waiting..hope you like it and had a Merry Christmas! :D

* * *

><p>"You get older and blame turns to shame<p>

'Cause everything inside

it never comes out right." – _Sorry_, by Buckcherry

**Chapter 9 - At Wits End**

Malfoy pointed his wand at the door.

"_Alohamora_," he said confidently. A soft golden light erupted from the tip of his wand as it touched the keyhole. He grabbed the doorknob for the second time and turned—it remained sealed. He tried to pull the door harder, growling in frustration.

Hermione's mind was racing at this point, watching Malfoy fail over and over as he tried to unlock the door. She started to pace, on the verge of panicking. Not to mention her head was still throbbing.

"Why is the door locked?" she asked angrily, massaging her temples.

"Hell if I know Granger," Malfoy snapped. "It's your bloody fault we're trapped now."

"It was your idea in the first place you ignorant prat!"

"Well it was your spell that did this!"

Hermione stared at him. "What spell?"

"The spell that has us trapped inside this stupid room!"

"You are unbelievable!" Hermione threw up her hands and plopped on the ground, turning sharply away from him. She glanced at her wrist watch, stared at it, and then shot back to her feet. "We have potions in three quarters of an hour!" she shouted frantically.

"Is that all you care about?" Malfoy said, gaping at her. "You really are a pathetic Mudblood."

"At least I'm capable of caring for _something_, which is more than I can say about you," said Hermione, flashing a nasty look his way. "And don't you even star—" she came to a halt, catching sight of his left shoulder. "You're bleeding."

Malfoy's Slytherin robe had fallen off, leaving him wearing a white button up shirt with a green and silver tie. The blood was leaking through his shirt on his shoulder, creating a violent shade of scarlet that contrasted greatly with his skin. He looked at his shoulder, blinking.

"Come here," Hermione growled.

"Why?"

"Do you want to bleed to death?"

"Better than being trapped with you."

"FINE!" Hermione shouted, throwing her hands in the air once more. "You can just die from blood loss!" She turned away angrily. Her heated gaze found the door, and if her eyes were magical, they would surely burn right through the wood.

_Stupid Malfoy. Stupid magic. Stupid door._

Silence followed, the only sound being the rapid, angry breaths of Hermione. She was completely content in her brooding and silent fury, but Malfoy seemed to have other plans.

"_Fine_," he breathed out slowly, as though the word physically pained him. "How do you fix it?"

Hermione turned to him slowly, scowling. "You let me do it, unless you want to take the risk of messing it up." She flashed a cruel smile. "But please, be my guest."

She could tell by the look on his face he was internally debating the cost of needing help and the cost of pain. It couldn't be more obvious Malfoy didn't like anyone helping him, much less a "Mudblood." For all Hermione knew, he'd just assume die than ask for help. But for some reason, he didn't feel like dying today, because he finally made his way over to her, albeit reluctantly, and sat down before her.

His shirt was torn on his shoulder and Hermione could see the blood dripping down his arm through the thin fabric. She ripped the tear wider to get a better view of the wound. He jumped and let out a yelp.

"Granger!" he shouted. "Watch what you're doing!"

"Then sit _still_!" she shouted back.

"Well, it hurts like hell!" He tried to pull away but she had a firm grasp on his sleeve and tugged at it harder.

"If you sat still it wouldn't hurt as much!"

Malfoy pulled away—Hermione glared at him. Their gazes locked in a battle of prideful fury, each refusing to look away, each huffing and panting in anger.

Hermione could see that this was going nowhere. She closed her eyes and took a few breaths, allowing herself to calm down and recollect her thoughts. Whether she liked it or not, Malfoy was bleeding profusely and he may pass out at any given moment from the loss of blood. An answered prayer that may be, an unconscious body would only make the situation worse for her.

She opened her eyes.

"Please sit still," she said calmly, "so I can…_concentrate_ on your wound. There is a large piece of wood lodged in your shoulder, and if you do not allow me to remove it, you will likely bleed to death before we find a way out of this room."

Malfoy stared at her, apparently trying to decide if she was serious or not. When he made no comment—he must have assumed she was, in fact, serious—Hermione went to work.

She muttered a simple numbing charm to help stop the pain—she knew removing the wood from his shoulder would be quite painful, regardless of size. Normally, she would have enjoyed seeing Malfoy in pain; however, he still had his wand clenched in his hand and she didn't want to deal with an angry, pained Malfoy.

Hermione removed the large piece of wood with her wand, but had to use her fingers to get the tiny remains. His blood painted her fingers and the sleeves of her robes. She had been around enough blood and wounds that the smell of rust and salt was familiar; it did not make her nauseated, but rather, gave her a sense of awareness.

Malfoy remained silent throughout the procedure; if he was in any amount of pain, he did not show it. Hermione felt a sense of calm as she finished with a couple of minor healing spells. She asked the room for bandages. They appeared next to her on a mountain of mushy, bluish-red grass. She looked at him for confirmation, silently asking if it was okay to wrap, but Malfoy was staring in the opposite direction, his eyes focused on something far away.

Hermione wrapped his shoulder anyway.

"There," she said. "I stopped the bleeding, removed the wood, and cleansed and wrapped the wound. You may want to see Madam Pomfrey later, though. I'm no healer and I'm not sure I sealed it well enough."

"If we ever make it out of here…" Malfoy muttered, getting to his feet.

Hermione stood as well. She didn't bother asking for a _thank you_; both because he would not give it, and because his civil behavior was worth more than verbal gratitude.

"Too bad Potter's not here," said Malfoy with a snort. "He always saves the day, doesn't he?"

Hermione ignored him and removed the blood from her fingers and clothes with her wand. "For some reason _'Alohamora'_ doesn't work…but why? Wait—what spell did you use?"

"A Body Bind Curse, why?"

"Because you wanted to lock all my movements…" said Hermione, more to herself than to him. "And I…I used '_Impedimenta_,' to freeze you in place. But…our spells collided…"

She had started to pace again, and Malfoy followed her with his eyes, brows knit in confusion.

"They collided!" she said excitedly, so loud he jumped. "That's it! It all makes sense now. How could I have been so stupid?"

Malfoy glared at her. "Are you always this annoying when you're thinking about something?"

"Don't you see?" she said, practically running up to him. "Didn't you notice how our spells, both red and blue, basically changed the entire room? Look around, it's all blue and red, filled with smoke and sparks."

"And?" Malfoy prodded, highly annoyed. "Get to the point Granger. I want to get out of here."

"Our spells connected, and instead of binding toward its object, they hit each other," Hermione explained. "But according to Griffins Third Law of Spell Conjunction, a spell, charm, or curse must bind to an actual object. Even if it misses its intended target, it will hit _something_, because it has to. It's like a magnet: the magnetism of the spell is attracted to an actual object."

"But our spells repelled and bound to the room, since they couldn't bind together," she went on. "And since they connected, they doubled in strength and power. Your spell was to lock movements; mine was to freeze. The connected spells did that! They locked this room and froze it, so we'd be locked inside!" Hermione's voice grew so loud she was practically shouting in excitement. She loved figuring out puzzles and solving cases. This was her element of expertise: being stuck in an insane situation, and using logic to find a way out.

Malfoy gaped at Hermione, and for the briefest second, astonishment was there. The look was gone in an instant, wiped away like blank slate.

"So all we have to do is—" he started.

"—remove our spells," finished Hermione, smiling widely. Malfoy stared at her, the corners of his lips twitching.

Hermione couldn't believe how simple the solution was, once she took the time to sort it all through. How could she forget Griffin's Third Law? Obviously the spells had to bind to something; she only wished she had figured it out sooner.

They then removed their spells with a quick flick of their wands. The room immediately faded, as the red and blue smoke fizzled away. The room transformed back into the way it looked before: completely empty, nothing but a large white, blank canvas with one exception. Tobias sat in his frame, wiping his sweaty face with a handkerchief and looking mildly annoyed.

"Took you long enough," he grunted.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Malfoy made their way to the dungeons for Potions together in silence. They had removed the dirt and blood from their robes, tucking in their shirts and adjusting their robes. They looked as normal as ever, not like they had just survived an enchanted dueling room.<p>

Though she did not dare admit it, Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of civility toward Malfoy. They weren't friends by any means, and she still hated him, but the Dueling Room was something she'd never forget, much like many adventures she shared with Harry and Ron.

Harry and Ron.

Would she tell them? _No_, she thought immediately. There was no need for that, and they wouldn't understand. They wouldn't understand why she had agreed to duel Malfoy in the first place, and they wouldn't understand why she had helped him. Her mother would say "sometimes you just had to be there" and this situation certainly applied now.

She glanced at her watch. They were going to be about fifteen minutes late. Late on the first day, to a first time professor's class! Hermione was mortified with herself. She was about to open the door to the Potions classroom when Malfoy stopped her with his hand.

"Not a word to anyone," said Malfoy. The urgency in his tone was so demanding and serious that for a moment, Hermione blinked at him. Then she gathered her wits and nodded.

"I couldn't agree more."

Professor Slughorn had already begun teaching when they stepped through the door. He stopped lecturing at once as the newcomers came into view. Hermione's face immediately flushed scarlet in embarrassment. Harry was gaping at her, his eyes wide and mouth open, like he'd just seen a four headed hippogriff. Ron's face was fluctuating from anger to confusion to bewilderment. The Slytherins, for once, were silent. They looked neither happy nor angry, though shock was wavering on a few faces. Neither Crabbe nor Goyle seemed to make it into the class, but Hermione recognized Blaise, Daphne, and another Slytherin she thought was named Max Craft.

"Oho! This must be Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy," beamed Slughorn with a jolly smile.

Hermione frowned, but was quite relieved he didn't seem angry.

"I'm sorry Professor, we were…we were…" her voice trailed off. She had not thought of this. Of course she needed an excuse, but what would she say? Not the truth, obviously, and with a classroom filled with anxious eyes, she was drawing a completely blank.

"We were finishing something for Professor Vector," Malfoy cut in smoothly. "We lost track of time, and I apologize for our tardiness. It won't happen again."

Hermione's shocked face would have given them away, but everyone in the class seemed to be staring at Malfoy, mirroring her expression.

"No matter, no matter! Prefects…," Slughorn mused with a chuckle, "you work too hard! Please, have a seat. I need to grab a few things from the cupboard."

Hermione immediately walked to Harry and Ron's lab table without another glance at Malfoy. She took her seat quietly, wishing somehow she could blend in with the black table.

"Hermione, what were you doing with Malfoy?" Harry asked, astonished.

"We're partners in Runes…I didn't have a choice…we were finishing something…lost track of time," she muttered under her breath desperately.

"You were with Malfoy," Ron said quietly, sounding very confused.

"I thought you two weren't taking this class," said Hermione quickly, wanting to shift the spot light away from her as quickly as possible. Harry had told her they needed an 'Outstanding' on their O.W.L. results to take Potions at the N.E.W.T. level, and neither had received such mark.

"We did," said Harry quietly, "with Snape. McGonagall told us after you left this morning that Slughorn would take us. And Slughorn said we could borrow books until we get our own."

"You were with Malfoy!" Ron said again, this time more loudly, but still just as bewildered. And yet there was somehow a lingering hint of betrayal in his voice.

Hermione opened her mouth, and closed it. What could she say? She _was_ with Malfoy and she _did_ have an excuse but what would they think if they knew? For some reason she now felt like she needed to explain herself, but Slughorn re-entered the room before she could say anything.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, I was just explaining several of these potions," he said, as he waddled into the room, carrying a bag of what looked like herbs. He gestured toward four boiling cauldrons at the front of the room, perched on a table.

"We have gone over the Polyjuice Potion. Do either of you by chance know what this potion does?" asked Professor Slughorn with mild curiosity.

Hermione nodded at once and spoke on cue, not bothering to wait on Malfoy's response.

"Polyjuice Potion is a potion that allows the drinker to transform themselves into another being temporarily. As long as the drinker takes a drink every hour on the hour, they will remain in their desired state."

Slughorn beamed at her. "Excellent! Ten well-earned points for Gryffindor! I must say, Miss Granger, I am most impressed with your definition."

Hermione smiled modestly, pleased to make a better impression than arriving late.

"You left something out, Granger," Malfoy said in a bored tone. "Even as textbook as your definition is."

Hermione whipped her head around to look at him at the Slytherin table. Slughorn nodded for him to continue, his eyes bulging with excitement.

"The amount of Polyjuice Potion needed to successfully sustain the desired state depends on the weight of the actual person," said Malfoy. "_A drink_ will not suffice."

Slughorn was beaming again, but all Hermione could do was stare at Malfoy, completely astonished. Throughout the years, Potions seemed to be his strongest subject, but Hermione thought that was only because it was Snape showing favoritism.

"And if the weight depends on the amount given to the user, the time the user needed to drink the potion would differ as well," Malfoy finished, a look of triumph etched onto his face.

"My, oh my! You are quite right, Mr. Malfoy! Excellent! Take ten points for Slytherin. Now, let's mo—"

"Weight and time are of no correspondence," Hermione interrupted, as though Slughorn had not spoken at all. "The potion is designed to last one hour and one hour only."

Slughorn nodded reasonably. "Ah, well Miss Granger—"

"That's wrong, Granger," cut in Malfoy. "If the user wishes to turn into a teenager or child, their bodies function and mature at a more rapid growth rate; therefore, the user would need to take the potion more frequently."

"No, they wouldn't!" said Hermione, her voice now rising.

"Hermione…" Harry muttered awkwardly, but Hermione just waved him off.

"Yes, they would," Malfoy argued back through gritted teeth.

"That's not what the book says!"

"Then obviously you're reading the wrong book, Granger!"

"Oh my…" whispered Slughorn.

"Hermione…calm down…"

"Don't tell me what to do, Harry! I am calm! Malfoy is wrong!"

"I'm not wrong, you are! You're just mad because someone else knows more than you about something!"

The silence that followed was heavy and tense. No one had called Hermione out like that…especially over anything that had to do with studies. All she could do was stare at him now, mouth half open, feeling like she had been slapped.

"Miss Granger…Mr. Malfoy…" began Slughorn desperately, "Please…let us move on from the Polyjuice Potion. You both make wonderful, valid points. But we have several other potions to discuss."

Hermione narrowed her eyes but gave a polite nod to Slughorn. Malfoy made no comment, and this seemed to appease Slughorn. He muttered something about a debate club while sorting through several glass phials.

Harry looked at Hermione in bewilderment, like she was someone he didn't even know. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, and looked away. Ron seemed to be avoiding her eyes, or else he found something very interesting carved onto the lab table. Hermione closed her eyes. She wanted to throw her cauldron across the room and nail Malfoy in the face. The small part of her that felt more civil toward him was now gone. The more she looked at his pale pointed, arrogant face, the more her blood boiled.

She hated him. She was sure of it now.

"Now," said Slughorn, "now where were we? Ah yes…yes. This is a rather _special_ potion." He gestured towards the smallest cauldron, "Could anyone possibly tell me—of course, Miss Granger?"

Hermione put her hand down. "It's Amortentia, the strongest love potion in the world," Though she was still was angry with Malfoy; she couldn't hide her interest in the potion, and leaned forward to have an even better look.

"Indeed it is, Miss Granger. A very dangerous potion I must say. It creates a very powerful infatuation and is strengthened over time. The longer it brews, the stronger it is. Every person smells what attracts them most. I happen to smell pineapple, lilac, and Madam Rosmertta's finest oak matured mead…" Slughorn trailed off, a dreamy look on his face.

Hermione took a deep breath and smelt a mixture of new parchment, fresh cotton, and rich mahogany. She suddenly felt all warm and fuzzy inside

Snapping back to reality, Slughorn continued, "But there is one last potion I wish to show you today before we begin our assignment." He pulled a tiny bottle filled with glittering gold liquid from his robes and held it out for the class to see.

"This is Felix Felicis," he said dramatically. "In other words, a bottle of good luck."

The class rose a little higher in their seats, every student trying to have a better look, as Slughorn let the moment of climax lengthen.

"The tiny bottle here is ten hours-worth of luck and I will be giving it out as a prize. Do keep in mind it is not permitted when taking exams or in competitive sports, such as Quidditch." Ron, and several other students, let out a groan. "Now, how do you get my lucky prize? By turning to page 6 of _Advanced Potion Making _and brewing up The Draught of Living Peace. I do not expect perfect potions, but the person with the best potion shall win the tiny bottle of luck. Off you go!"

Hermione bolted immediately for the supplies cabinet before anyone had moved, her book left open askew on her desk. She had already read the first ten chapters, and remembered most of the ingredients to begin The Draught of Living Peace. It was not an easy potion to say the least, but she knew the theory fairly well.

Hermione returned to her desk as everyone else in the class started to move toward the cabinet. She had a head start, which was good, but she needed to take her time to prepare it just right if she wanted to win.

After a few minutes of cutting valerian roots and a sopophorous bean, Hermione began mixing her potion while adding leech juice and other variations of plants. She ground a piece of moonstone into a light, powered form and added it slowly, causing her potion to turn a light shade of grey.

Her concentration was interrupted by Harry as she tucked a piece of frazzled hair behind her ear. She was going to win this bottle of luck, no matter what.

"Er…Hermione? Could I borrow your silver knife?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded impatiently without looking at him and continued stirring furiously. She heard a strange, gushing sort of sound from Harry's station, and glanced at his potion. Looking back to page 6, she went back to her directions:

_Step 10: Stir counterclockwise for exactly eight minutes. The potion should then shift from a light grey to a dark, inky black._

"Harry," Hermione began, exasperated, "how are you getting yours like that?"

His potion was indeed a perfect inky black, while Hermione's was still a charcoal grey.

"Add a clock wise stir after ev—"

"No, that's not what the book says," she replied hastily, and continued working on her potion for the remaining twenty minutes.

* * *

><p>Hermione left the dungeons fuming, red faced, hair frazzled, and covered in soot. She tried to replay the events in her head, but it just didn't match up. Harry had somehow, miraculously, out-smarted her in potions and won the Felix Felicis. Even though she was angry for losing, it did make her a little happy to see Malfoy looking so put out. If anyone had to beat her, she was glad it was Harry.<p>

But it wasn't the fact that Harry had beaten her that made her so angry—okay, part of that wasn't true—but it was mostly because it wasn't his idea to use the silver knife or the clockwise stir or who knows what else.

Harry had showed her the Potion's book he was using, which contained the previous author's scribbles and side notes, scribbles and notes that had apparently led to his success. _It wasn't even his work, _thought Hermione bitterly_. _She felt betrayed by a book for the first time in her life. Scowling to herself, she tried to put the liquid luck from her mind as she made her way to the library, her safe haven.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading. :D I always appreciate your feedback; reviews are much loved!

**Review Responses:**

**Melanie666: "Like the part where Hermione got angry and threw a chair against wall, so much for calm and collected. She lose temper around Draco a lot, doesn't she?"** - Yes, she does! He can be a very frustrating person to be around. :P

**Alenerien: " I was worried that you might have abandoned this story, since it took so long to update."** - No abandoning, I promise! I had finals and the last few weeks of fall semester are always rough. Now that I'm on break, I'm hoping to get more chapters out. The chapters are already written but I've got other stories going on as well so it slows me down. Bah. :P

**futurenostagia: "I'm so excited to see that you're still doing HPFF."** - Thank you me too! Glad you found me. :D FoD will eventually be posted on here as soon as this one is finished.

**a.k.l.: "Why did Draco wanted to duel with Hermione?"** - He used a verbal spell in class basically to make her mad, but he wanted to prove to her that he could beat her fairly so he challenges her to a duel. Hermione has a very superior attitude at times, and she should since she's so good at spells, but Malfoy wanted to knock her off her high horse, so to say. :P

**Rilla: "But, It seems like the chapters are shorter than before, maybe it's just me."** - SO glad you found me, Rilla! I miss your reviews. :D This story will be pumped out much faster than the first time, so hopefully FoD won't take too long to get out. Anyway, the chapters at the beginning of this story ARE longer than the ones in the end, so you are right. I started off writing about 2500-3500 words per chapter when I started CF, but they got longer over time. :D I've combined a couple chapters in this story already, so we're at chapter 9 now but technically this was chapter 11 in the original version. :P


	10. Trick or Treat

**A/N:** Thanks for your patience; enjoy!

* * *

><p>"And we are leaving some things unsaid<p>

And we are breathing deeper instead

We're both pretty sure

Neither one can tell

We seem difficult

What we got is hard as hell

A hundred thousand words could not quite explain." – _Unsaid_, The Fray

**Chater 10 – Trick or Treat**

A few weeks had gone by and the grounds were as beautiful as ever, the last dying embers of fall remaining in the wake. The leaves were beginning to fall, painting an array of reds, oranges, and yellows over the grounds. The sixth years were given more free periods, advised for studying and working on homework; Ron seemed to believe these periods were more useful spent playing Exploding Snap or reprimanding first and second years in the halls. Hermione on the other hand, spent most of her free time in the library; the Prefect Common Room often got too loud when Prefect's were practicing dueling. It wasn't before long did she change Ron's attitude, refusing to finish his essay over the Components of Moonstone.

Hermione decided not to tell Harry or Ron the truth about her and Malfoy in the Dueling Room; it was far too embarrassing, and quite frankly, too confusing to even attempt at explanation. Ron was not easy to let it go, and had asked her another thousand questions about Malfoy. Eventually Hermione had had enough, and the interrogations lead to an intense Bat Bogey Hex, compliments to Ginny. Ron had not brought it up again sense.

To Hermione's disappointment, Harry was still outshining her in potions. She was beginning to become a little bitter and resentful. Not toward Harry, but his new Potions book. Perhaps she could accidently toss it into the fire when he was not looking.

Hermione wished Harry luck one evening after dinner, as he was meeting with Dumbledore for private lessons. Harry had forgotten to mention this until now, blaming it on all the homework and planning Quidditch tryouts. She figured Dumbledore might be speaking to him about the prophecy, which was the main reason Voldemort had tried to break into the Ministry in the first place last year. Hermione did not know what the prophecy said, nor did she want to ask Harry if he did. She didn't want to bring up anything that would remind him of Sirius. After all, he seemed to be coping well as is, far better than she expected. Sooner or later, if Harry wanted to talk about it, she would listen.

Hermione's living quarters with Malfoy were beginning to improve, at least in the ways that they could. She hardly ran into him at all; he was always gone before she woke up and came to bed hours after she had fallen asleep. Once, she had fallen asleep in their common room, and woke with a start to the sound of a slamming door. Of course, it would be Malfoy, and when she checked her watch, it was half after one in the morning. Occasionally, she would see him escorting a couple of girls out of the main common room. But this was far from suspicious behavior for Malfoy, as even the jealous Pansy remained silent. Where he was going and what he was doing, Hermione had no idea, and hardly any time to investigate; however, she was almost positive the conversation she overheard in Diagon Alley, Malfoy's changed behavior, and Harry's information was all connected somehow. She just didn't know how.

After dinner, Hermione worked on a Charm's essay for Flitwick, deciding to get a head start before she had to leave. When she finished—on accident, of course—she packed up her things, shoving rolled up parchment and quills into her bag, shaking off all thoughts of Malfoy and his whereabouts that did not concern her. It was time for the Prefect's second meeting of the year, and she did not want to be late.

She was to the door of her room when an owl swooped in through the open window. The snow owl, so much like Hedwig in looks, stuck out its leg and Hermione unfolded the letter. Her heart sank when she recognized the writing:

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know yer too busy ter come down and see me, but I'm a little upset that you, Harry, and Ron couldn't tell me y'erselves that you won' be in me class anymore. It would be nice for sum tea sumtime, when yer not ter busy. I'm nursing a couple of Thestrals, so I've been kinda busy anyway. Woulda wrote to Harry but he's got ter much on his hands._

_Hagrid_

Hermione had not realized how upset Hagrid would be over the three of them not taking his class, Care for Magical Creatures, anymore. She simply had no way of adding Hagrid's class to her already full schedule, even though Harry and Ron had no excuse. She sighed, sat down at her desk with a fresh piece of parchment and quill, and wrote her reply:

_Dear Hagrid,_

_I'm so sorry I haven't been able to visit! I have to take so many pre-requisite classes that I simply couldn't add one more class. With Prefect duties and the new living quarters, my life has been very hectic. Please let me know a good time to stop by for tea; I'll let Harry and Ron know as well._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

She rolled up her letter and walked to the window. The snow owl had left, but a tawny owl was resting on the perch, waiting. A school owl remained on duty during the day by every Prefect's window in case they needed to deliver a letter; a Prefect addition that Hermione gladly welcomed. This was quite a time saver, considering a trip to the Owlry was a long walk from her dormitory on the seventh floor.

After sending off Hagrid's letter, Hermione exited her room to head for the Prefect meeting. She entered the Transfiguration room seven minutes later and was pleased to see Katie, smiling genuinely and placing several rolls of parchment onto a desk. Not a minute later, Ginny walked in, smiling radiantly. Ginny had kept being a Prefect a secret until their first meeting; even Ron had no idea. Hermione was thrilled her best girlfriend was now a Prefect; though Ron seemed somewhat jealous he had to share the glory. Ginny had kept the secret even from her parents, which resulted in a nasty Howler from Mrs. Weasley that ended up in tears from happiness. It was the strangest Howler Hermione had ever heard.

Ginny walked over to Katie and handed her a note. She gave Hermione a tiny wink and headed toward the exit.

Hermione was perplexed. "Ginny, where are you going?"

"This meeting is for sixth years only, didn't you know?" Ginny shook her head with a laugh and waved. "A record, I think, that Hermione Granger doesn't know something. I'll see you later."

Hermione smiled despite herself. She supposed it was surprising to be out of the loop with Prefect information.

What was not surprising, however, was Malfoy showing up ten minutes late. Hermione flashed him an annoyed look, one he must be accustomed to receiving from her, but her expression quickly morphed into surprise. She was startled to see him looking so…gaunt. He looked paler than ever with large, dark circles under his eyes. There was a look on his face she couldn't identify. She didn't have time to place it, for it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a smug grin that seemed forced.

"Katie, why are the fifth year Prefect's not meeting with us?" asked Hermione, unable to bait her curiosity.

"We're meeting with them separately. We have something important to discuss, and it only involves us. We need to figure out a date for the first trip to Hogsmeade." Katie's voice took on a higher pitch. "And, we need to start on preparing for the Halloween Ball."

It couldn't have been more obvious Katie was busting to tell the news. A murmur broke through the room of excited chatter.

"We know this is a new idea, but Katie and I spoke to Professor Dumbledore and he agreed to pass the agreement we made," said Eddie. "Everyone seemed to enjoy the Yule Ball, and in these dark times, we thought it might you know, give everyone something happy to look forward to. There will be a seated dinner, like the Yule Ball, beginning at seven and it will end at midnight. It'll be a Masquerade Party, so everyone is required to wear masks." He caught himself up short of laughter. "I mean, we're not muggles: we don't dress up in silly costumes."

Hermione frowned; she had rather enjoyed dressing up in costumes as a child, and even though Wizard's do not share that custom, it wasn't _that_ silly.

"We'll work in groups of two. To make it easier, we'll work with our living partner. I have a list," Katie grabbed the top piece of parchment from the desk, "of our responsibilities."

She flicked her wand; the parchment multiplied, and then began _zooming_ into everyone's hands. Hermione read it over quickly:

_Halloween Masquerade Dance_

_Katie and Eddie – Invitation Décor and Over sight_

_Padma and Ron – Enchantments on objects_

_Pansy and Ernie – Music and entertainment_

_Hermione and Draco – Guest list_

_Hannah and Anthony – Decorations_

Hermione was a bit relieved to only be in charge of the guest list. _Can't be too bad, _she thought, sighing to herself. She turned to look at Katie, who, of course, was expecting some sort of question from her.

"So is everyone invited? Even the first years?"

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore didn't want anyone to feel left out," said Katie. "But everyone wishing to go must give their invitation to you and Malfoy so the staff has an idea who will be there and who will not."

"We'll need to schedule our Hogsmeade visit before the ball, so students have time to buy proper masks and attire in the shops."

"What about our patrol schedule?" said Hermione, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment and not bothering to look up.

"Got that right here," said Eddie, flicking his wand, as another piece of parchment zoomed into Hermione's hand.

_Patrol Schedule_

_The dungeons – Katie and Eddie_

_1__st__ Floor – Hannah and Anthony_

_2__nd__ floor – Olivia and Michael_

_3__rd__ floor – Astoria and Collin_

_4__th__ floor – Hermione and Draco_

_5__th__ floor – Padma and Ron_

_6__th__ floor – Lyra and Spencer_

_7__th__ floor – Pansy and Ernie_

_Week off – Ginny and Terry_

"Every week, we'll rotate down the list so every ninth week we'll get a break," said Katie. "Don't forget to check the lavatories as well on each floor."

Hermione was relieved to finally have a set schedule. Since the beginning of term all the Prefect's patrolled the halls randomly around nine; there was no set schedule and she hated for things to be unorganized.

"Yeah, we'll start tonight," said Eddie. "As you already know, the students are to be in their common rooms by nine, so we'll start patrolling around fifteen till. Remember, you need to patrol until 10 o'clock. And one more thing." He looked extremely anxious about whatever he was going to say next, cheeks flushed dark red. "Professor Dumbledore thinks it will be best…if we…if we show unity at the ball."

Everyone stared at him in confusion. Hermione saw Ron's left eye twitch, a sure sign he had no idea what was going on; she was just as lost as him.

"He wants us to go to the ball with the person we live with," said Katie bluntly.

"WHAT?"

"Absolutely not!"

"I refuse!"

The Prefect's were in an uproar. Hermione was silent and shot a look to Malfoy, gazing at him in horror. He didn't look angry; simply annoyed with the whole ordeal, like it was some great inconvenience for him.

"ENOUGH!" yelled Katie, silencing everyone at once. "That was the only way he agreed to do this. It's not the end of the world! You all can tough it out for one night. Besides, we have to open up the ball with a dance, as it's customary."

The Prefects once again shouted complaints and insults. Hermione saw Ron slam his hand down on the desk, nearly causing it to crack. Ernie nearly fell backward out of his chair and Pansy screeched in horror. _You would think_, Hermione thought, _that Katie suggested we run naked through the school with tea cozy's on our heads. _

"Professor Dumbledore will strip your badge if you refuse!" Katie shouted, silencing the Prefects once more. "Now suck it up—we are Prefects! The champions opened the Yule Ball two years ago, and we can do this. McGonagall will send you a note for our first dance practice. Have a good night," she dismissed, sounding irritated and harsh all at once.

Hermione gathered her things hastily and headed back to her room, not even stopping to talk to Ron, who was still red in the face and angry or annoyed, she didn't know. Once she was safely in her common room, she placed her bag on the couch and flopped into a warm, soft chair. A long, punctuated sigh left her lips, and she placed her fingers on her temple.

It was bad enough she had to live with Malfoy; now she had to go to the ball with him. She had to dance with Malfoy—Draco Malfoy—in front of the entire school. She had been nervous enough with Krum, and now this. She wondered if the school year could get any worse, or if perhaps she should expect the Death Eaters to drop by for a visit sometime soon. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn Dumbledore was doing this on purpose; forcing oil and water to mix.

Hermione heard the door open but she didn't bother to look up.

"We need to patrol the corridors Malfoy," she announced tiredly, ignoring the inevitable truth of the ball. She didn't want to bring it up, and hoped he didn't.

"Fine, let's go," he replied hastily.

Hermione's eyes snapped open in surprise, but she said nothing and followed him out the common room. They walked silently next to each other on the sixth floor; the only sound was a light rain, tapping against the windows.

"So, I guess we should talk about the guest list…" Hermione tried.

"Granger, do you have anything to talk about that doesn't revolve around school or books? Honestly, it's no wonder Weasley doesn't want you."

Hermione felt like suddenly, viciously she had been punched in the stomach. The feeling quickly faded to anger, however, and she whirled around to face him.

"Well Malfoy, I suppose I should ask how you plan on smuggling your Death Eater mask into the school for the Halloween Ball."

The words had escaped her before she knew it. She froze on the spot, knowing she had said too much. Malfoy was already several steps in front of her, and he stopped too, going rigid all over. His fists clenched at either side, and he was as still as marbled stone. A terrible chill seemed to linger in the corridor.

"You don't know anything," he said, his back still to her.

"Malfoy," she said, and the words hurt to say, "I shouldn't have said that. I…I didn't mean it."

She was telling the truth; she really didn't mean it.

He glanced over his shoulder, but still not looking at her.

"Yes," he said, "you did."

And with that Malfoy strode away, his dark robes swooshing across the stone floor.

* * *

><p>A little over a half hour later, Hermione returned to her room, having patrolled the fourth floor several times by herself. She ignored Padma and Hannah, as they both asked her what was the matter. She didn't think admitting, "Oh I'm just upset because I hurt Malfoy's feelings" sounded acceptable. In fact, it was somewhat laughable. Deep down, she felt sick with herself. As much as she hated Malfoy, she did not truly expect him to be a Death Eater like Harry had.<p>

Hermione fell, once again, onto the couch in her common room and stared at the starry ceiling. _But why would he react that way? _She thought_. His father was obviously a Death Eater but there's no way Malfoy is. He's too young…and he's…he's Malfoy!_ Her brain was going to explode, she was sure of it. She just needed to close her eyes; close her eyes from the world, just for a little bit.

She woke to the sound of a door cracking open. Hermione blinked a few times and sat up slowly. Malfoy stopped abruptly, halfway toward his door, and narrowed his eyes, surveying her tired expression. His shadows were more prominent than ever, and his face looked grave with sorrow. He ran his hands through his blonde hair as he spoke,

"What do you want, Granger?"

"I wanted to apologize," said Hermione, trying to sound sincere. "You might not deserve my apologies—we know you've called me a fair share of nasty names in the past—but I really didn't mean what I said. And I'm sorry, and thought you should know."

Malfoy stared at her. Her vision was still blurry with sleep, and she couldn't read his expression.

"Don't be," he said, very clearly, and without another glance, he swept through his door.

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke the next morning with a stiff neck and wrinkled clothes. She had gone back to sleep on the couch, in a rather uncomfortable position to boot. She sat up, and saw a letter on the table, addressed to her. Puzzled, she opened it:<p>

_Dear Hermione,_

_Got yer letter. Thanks for replyin' so fast. How would yer like to come by me hut for tea this week? Bring Harry an Ron. S'been so long since I've seen you lot. I'll show yeh the Thestrals if yeh like. Keep forgettin' you can see em' now. Come by whenever yeh can. _

_Hagrid_

Hermione smiled. She took the letter to the desk in her room and grabbed a new piece of parchment, ink, and her quill and wrote back quickly:

_Dear Hagrid,_

_Thanks for the invitation. I will tell Harry and Ron and we'll try to make it down this week. I hope you are enjoying the wonderful weather and I'd love to see the Thestrals._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

She read the letter over twice before sending it off with the owl on duty.

After Hermione got dressed and ready, she exited her bedroom to find Ron waiting in the main common room with a slightly nervous face.

"What's wrong, Ron?" she asked after they left the portrait hole.

"What?" Ron blinked at her. "Oh nothing, just nervous for Quidditch tryouts."

Quidditch. Hermione shouldn't have been surprised. This was one topic she never fully understood its importance to the degree of her friends. Sure, she enjoyed watching the wizard game played on broomsticks, but it wasn't something to obsess over.

After a quick breakfast, Hermione went to the Quidditch pitch with Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Ron was still nervous but Ginny looked rather confident. Hermione had seen Ginny practicing back at the Burrow before they left for Hogwarts and to her surprise: she was a pretty fair flyer. As they were approaching the front gate to the Quidditch pitch, Ginny pulled Hermione's arm.

"Can I talk to you really fast?" she asked hesitantly.

"Of course," said Hermione. "We'll catch up in a minute," she added to Harry and Ron, waving them away.

"What's this about?" barked Ron.

"If it concerned you, Ronald, I'm sure Ginny would have asked you."

Harry pulled Ron's arm before he could say anything else, and they continued toward the pitch, whispering and looking back every few steps.

"Nosy prats," Hermione muttered. "What is it, Ginny?"

"It's Dean," Ginny said with a sigh. "He's trying out today for the Gryffindor team."

"That's great! Or…is it not so great?" Hermione added, catching the look on Ginny's face.

"No, I know I should be excited but…I don't know. Quidditch was something I could have without Dean. He always follows me around and I feel like I have no time for myself. And I don't know how good he is to be honest…"

"Well, I don't know." Hermione bit her lip. "I mean if he's good, I'm sure Harry will want to keep him. But if you said something to him he might keep that in mind."

"No, I don't want to say anything to Harry. I'll just suck it up." Ginny forced a smile. "Wish me luck!"

Hermione laughed. "Like you need luck, you're related to Fred and George!"

Ginny gave a cheeky grin, and took off to catch up to Harry and Ron. By the time Hermione reached the Quidditch pitch, it was covered with a huge group of students crowding around Harry. Half of them were girls, and some did not even belong to Gryffindor. Hermione laughed to herself at the look on Harry's face and made her way toward the bleachers at the far end of the pitch.

"Hello Hermione," said a voice. "May I sit?"

She looked up in surprise to find Cormac McLaggen, the handsome golden-haired boy from Ancient Runes. He was red in the face, looking slightly angry about something, but otherwise polite in his request.

"Sure. What position are you trying out for?" she asked, more out of consideration than curiosity.

"Trying out?" He gave a very proud laugh. "Surely you're kidding. I _will_ be the Keeper, no doubt about that."

"Oh, well, why didn't you play last year?"

"I was in the hospital wing. I did a stupid bet…don't ask. I didn't regret it then but when I had to endure the suffering of watching that atrocious Weasley." Cormac's sneer was worth of Malfoy's. "I knew I had made a huge mistake. Did you see how terrible he was?"

Before Hermione could reply, Cormac went on.

"I bet it's because his family can't afford a proper broomstick, that's got to be it. Too many Weasley's wanting to play Quidditch. I mean, look at his Comet 260, it's practically ancient," he said, with another smug laugh. "Being Potter's friend will only get him so far."

Hermione was appalled to hear a fellow Gryffindor sound so nasty. Her mouth dropped out of anger but at that moment Cormac got up and walked back to the pitch before she could say anything. She wondered, suddenly, how he managed to get into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin.

As the tryouts trudged on, she was soon surrounded by more students that decided to watch. She was annoyed to find Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil giggling a few feet away, pointing at Ron like he was the most desirable object in the world. The tryouts seemed to last forever, and Harry had to constantly shoo away non-Gryffindors, but just when Hermione was about to give up and go inside, Harry called for those trying out to be Keeper.

A fifth year boy named Adrian Russell saved two out of five penalties. A seventh year boy Hermione thought was named Riley saved three. When it was Cormac's turn, Hermione watched closely. He saved the first four penalties with perfect ease.

_Shoot, he can't be Keeper! _Hermione frowned to herself terribly and before she could stop herself, she raised her wand at him and thought, _Confundo! _

Ginny launched the Quaffle towards the left goal—and Cormac shot off in the direction of the right goal. Hermione smiled smugly; she was really getting good at non-verbal spells.

Cormac looked very confused and sat idly on his broom a moment, before gathering his wits and landing on the ground. He strutted up to Harry, looking livid.

Ron was the last to go for the Keeper's and to Hermione's delight, saved every shot. Five out of five. Immediately after, Cormac and Harry exchanged a few words, resulting in Cormac storming away. Lavender started clapping and gave Parvati a hug when Harry announced that Ron would be Keeper. Lavender turned to face Hermione.

"Did you see Ron? Wasn't he the most brilliant thing you've ever seen?"

_Hardly_, Hermione thought, staring at Lavender with mixed annoyance and bewilderment. She bounded from the bleachers and went to catch up with her friends. Ginny and Harry were congratulating each other, but when Ginny ran off to catch a sulky Dean—who didn't make the team—Harry stared after her in reproach.

"Did you see Ron, Hermione?" Harry asked, at the look on her face, and gave Ron a rough pat on the back. "Caught every penalty; isn't that something?"

"You were brilliant, Ron," Hermione agreed. "Really well done."

"Yeah, I was, wasn't I? Did you see Russell and McLaggen? I was loads better. I swear McLaggen seemed Confunded or something…." Ron trailed off.

Hermione blushed and averted Harry's eyes before they gave her away, though she had a sinking feeling he might suspect it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Thank you for reading! Would love to hear your thoughts. :D Also, I don't think I've mentioned this, but I do read EVERY review. It would be super lazy and disrespectful if I didn't. Even though I may not respond to yours personally, that's typically because I respond to questions at the end of my chapter or comments that I should explain. :P But I do appreciate them all equally, so thank you!

**Review Responses:**

**: "I'm soooo happy that you are here now! Looking forward to Forces of Destiny! By the way, have you finished writing "Forces of Destiny" yet? Or is it still in progress?"** - Glad you found me! Long story short, I decided to move my HP stories here. I was already an author over here anyway and it's much quicker posting here. :D I have not finished FoD, as I've been very busy with my Avatar fics. If you haven't read Avatar The Last Airbender, you need to! Check out my The Black Games someday..it's my most popular one and has a very Dramione pairing.

**maudesuzelle: "Now I have to wait for the whole CF to finish first before I can read FoD? Wooohooo... don't take it the wrong way. I'm not complaining here."** - No, I understand! lol I wish I didn't have to leave so abruptly and for that I apologize. But as I have many new readers here, it would make little sense for me to post FoD before CF, you know? :D Gotta get everyone up to speed!

**SophieElle: "First of all, is this that story that has a sequel called "Forces of Destiny?"** - Yes it is! Just to clarify. :D

**DestinyCrusader: "One thing though... "Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said their quick goodbyes, each of them promising to behave and write frequently." That kinda sounded... wrong. Like, the Mr. And Mrs. Weasley promised to behave."** - Baha, bad wording on my part. "Everyone" was supposed to be Hermione, Harry, Ron and Ginny. :P

**twoyellowpaths: "Also, I like the fact that it takes some time for Hermione and Draco to realize that there's more to their relationship than just hatred. I hate those fanfictions where they fall in love after one."** - Thank you! I hate that too. Especially since most of my favorite pairings are ones that aren't love at first sight, so rushing the romance seems way out of character. :D


	11. Shall We Dance?

**A/N:** Thanks to Alenerien who pointed out I had, in fact, skipped a chapter! haha Good catch! Anyway, thanks for your patience guys. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"How did we get here?<br>I used to know you so well.  
>How did we get here?<br>Well, I think I know." – _Decode_, Paramore

**Chapter 11 – Shall We Dance?**

The next week passed in a blur for Hermione. It amazed how her time seemed to fly whenever she was dreading something. Just two days after the Gryffindor Quidditch match, McGonagall had sent her a letter regarding the upcoming dance lessons. It wasn't until she read the letter did the truth really sink in. There was going to be a Halloween Ball. Hermione had to take dance lessons. And she had to go with Malfoy.

Ever since Dumbledore had announced the ball a couple of nights ago, the students found it hard to focus on anything that did not involve masks, dates, dresses, or make up. Ron was beyond furious, ranting about the ball to anyone that would listen. Hermione had the suspicion his anger was not geared toward the prospect of him going to the ball with Padma, but something else entirely, because really, Padma was rather nice.

Hermione sat on her bed, flipping through the pages of _Advanced Potion Making _while periodically glancing at her desk, focusing in on the ivory parchment of McGonagall's letter. She couldn't seem to look at it without glaring or scowling. She had read it so many times the words were burned to memory:

_Miss Granger,_

_As you already know, the Prefect's will open the Halloween Ball on the thirty-first of October. This should not be too unfamiliar to you, considering you opened the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum two years previous. The opening dance will be the same style, and I shall be giving lessons starting Monday, September 23__rd__ at 8 o'clock sharp. We will meet at 8 o'clock, every Monday, until October 27__th__ in the Great Hall._

_I trust you and Mr. Malfoy to behave at the level we here at Hogwarts expect from Prefects and future contenders for Head Boy and Girl. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask. Otherwise, I will see you on the 23__rd__ at 8 o'clock, in the Great Hall._

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress _

The words "future contenders for Head Boy and Girl" still haunted Hermione. There was absolutely no way Malfoy would become Head Boy, but she had dreamed of becoming Head Girl since her first year. McGonagall surely knew this. Using that as leverage to behave civilly was just low, Hermione thought.

But it worked.

Hermione was not nice to Malfoy, but she made a point not to be completely nasty to him, either. They were able to be in the same room without throwing around insults, so she supposed that was some progress. If tolerating Malfoy for a year put her in good graces of becoming Head Girl, she'd swallow her pride and do it.

Hermione suddenly slammed her book shut, unable to read any more. She had her first dance lesson in a few hours; potions couldn't distract her from that. She needed to get out of her room, and a swift glance at one of Hagrid's letters on her desk gave her just the idea.

She stopped by Ron's room on the way to Hagrid's hut. He answered on the third knock.

"I'm going to visit Hagrid before our lessons," she said eagerly. "Want to come? I was thinking we could ask Harry, too."

"Why not," muttered Ron, shutting the door with much more force than necessary.

They walked in silence to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione hated not living with all the other Gryffindors, but at least both common rooms were on the seventh floor. Malfoy and Pansy were used to the dungeons; the change had to be worse for them.

Hermione was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she nearly plowed right over a tiny first or second year.

"Excuse me," started Hermione, taking a step back, "I'm so sorry! I didn't even see you."

The girl looked as though Hermione had sprouted another head. She dropped her books, and they clattered to the floor. The girl stared down at them in horror, long black hair falling in front of her face like a velvet curtain.

A little startled, Hermione bent down to pick them up.

"S-sorry," the girl stuttered. As soon as Hermione handed over her books, the girl stormed off down the corridor.

"What d'you reckon that was about?" Ron asked after a moment.

"I don't know," said Hermione, frowning.

A couple minutes later, they found themselves in Gryffindor Tower. Harry was in the common room, talking Quidditch tactics with Ginny and Demelza.

"D'you want to come, Ginny?" he asked, standing up.

"I would, but I'm doing dreadful in Potions and Dean said he'd help me." Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "We're supposed to start studying tonight."

Hermione couldn't help herself. "Why didn't you ask Harry? He's just the _prince_ of potions."

Harry flushed, and she almost felt bad. Almost. Not enough to take back her words, though.

"I guess we'll see you later, Ginny," said Ron.

"Later? What do you mean later?"

"For those ruddy dance lessons."

"What are you talking about?"

Ron shot Hermione a look.

"Don't you have to take dance lessons, for the ball?" she hedged, but the look on Ginny's face gave her a sinking feeling.

Ginny laughed. "Not that I'm aware of. It's only you lot, isn't it? Just sixth years and the Head Boy and Girl."

Ron scoffed loudly, ears blazing red. "That's not bloody fair! D'you even have to go with someone from another house?"

"No, we don't." Ginny flashed a brilliant smile. "Sixth years are showing unity by living together and all that—not us. I suppose next year I would have to."

Ron threw his hands up in the air and stormed out the common room, rambling incoherent curses under his breath.

Hermione looked sheepishly at Ginny. "He's thrilled, as you can see."

"But what about you, Hermione? You have to go with…Malfoy." Ginny shivered.

Hermione sighed. "I know. Believe me, I know. But what choice do I have? McGonagall basically told me I have no other option. She also thinks Slytherin is the odd house out, the one that needs to unite with the others."

"And Malfoy is the solution," said Ginny, looking skeptical.

"I know." Hermione's shoulders sagged.

"Malfoy will never change," said Harry sternly. "His father's a Death Eater, that says enough and you don't know about—" He stopped abruptly at the look on Hermione's face.

Ginny didn't miss the look that passed between them. She smiled slyly. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing, Ginny," said Hermione. "Harry, we need to go. Ron and I have to be in the Great Hall in an hour."

Harry nodded and they bade good night to Ginny. Ron was waiting outside the portrait, still red in the face, talking to Neville.

"Wish you'd start the DA again Harry. I learned loads from you last year. Luna said she'd come to," said Neville, his voice full of hope.

"What's the point? Umbridge is gone, isn't she?"

Neville nodded, not bothering to hide his disappointed. Hermione tried to give him a reassuring smile as she passed, though she wasn't sure if he saw or not.

* * *

><p>Hermione, Harry, and Ron walked through the familiar grounds of Hogwarts toward Hagrid's cabin. The small vegetable patch near his hut glowed warmly against the dusky skies of autumn. The wind was starting to pick up, and Hermione tugged her scarf tighter.<p>

"Hagrid, it's us!" yelled Harry, after knocking twice.

The door opened to reveal Hagrid, standing as large as ever, wearing an apron and clutching a kettle.

"Glad yeh came," he said happily. He moved aside and allowed the three to enter.

Hermione smelt a mixture of smoke, herbs, and…was it blood? Oh, she hoped not. But she couldn't help notice the familiarity in the rust and salt. She surveyed Hagrid closely, and that's when she noticed a large bruise forming on his right eye.

"Have you been seeing Grawp again, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, slightly concerned.

"Wha' makes you say that?"

"I dunno, seen your face lately?" said Ron, fighting a laugh.

"How is Buckbeak doing, Hagrid?" asked Harry. He blinked up at Hagrid, wiping the smoke from his glasses on his shirt.

"Great, actually. Couldn' be happier back in the forest."

"That's good," replied Harry. Something in his voice made Hermione look at him. He was staring out Hagrid's only window, his eyes focused on something far away. It took her a moment to realize he was thinking of Sirius. She changed the subject.

"And how are the Thestrals?"

"Nosy, I tell yeh. Can't keep at bay for long, they be wantin' to wonder the forest. I'll show yeh sum other time. Righ' now they're sleepin'. Don't wanna mess with a sleeping Thestral." Hagrid poured what smelted like tea into three mismatched cups. "And how bout' you lot? How's the new Prefect's gettin' along?"

"Bloody brilliant," scorned Ron.

"I'm sure you already know about the Halloween Ball. Well, the sixth year Prefect's and the Head Boy and Girl have to open it with a dance," said Hermione, wincing at the thought of her lessons, which were happening very, very soon.

Hagrid blinked in surprise. "Wha? You're joking."

"I wish I was…" muttered Hermione.

Hagrid burst into sudden laughter. "But Malfoy? Can you 'magine the look on everyone's faces Hermione when they see you and Malfoy together."

"Thanks for your sympathy," said Hermione coolly.

"Sorry, Hermione," said Hagrid, sobering up. "Didn't mean no harm. All I'm sayin' is a Pureblood and a Mudblood s'not somethin' you see every day. Well, a Slytherin Pureblood at that."

* * *

><p>Hermione, Harry, and Ron left Hagrid's hut twenty minutes later. Hermione had barely listened to Hagrid prattle on about Grawp's latest verbal advancements; she was far too concerned with her upcoming dance lessons.<p>

After saying goodbye to Harry, Hermione and Ron took off toward the Great Hall. She tried a new tactic to ease her nerves. Maybe by avoiding the idea of dancing itself, it wouldn't be as big of deal when the time came around. Obsessing over it was definitely not helping.

Or maybe she would get lucky. Maybe Malfoy wouldn't show up. The idea faded as quickly as it came; Malfoy wouldn't want to surrender his badge and lose the privilege of bullying first and second years.

Hermione stopped just outside the front doors to the Great Hall and took in a shaky breath. She could not do this. Having to live with Malfoy was hard, but being forced to attend a ball with him and open up with a dance? It was too much for anyone, let alone Hermione, the girl he probably hated more than anyone. Ron was not helping either; he stood frozen at the doors, staring at the ground.

"Guess we better go in," she said, hopelessly.

"Guess so," muttered Ron. He opened the door with reluctance and they filed inside.

Padma was the first to greet them, offering a nervous half smile. Hermione's attention, however, was quickly all on Ernie. He was attempting to demonstrate dance moves to McGonagall, whose mouth had thinned to the point of disappearing. Katie and Eddie were already dancing playfully, laughing with every twist and turn. For a moment, Hermione thought that maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

Five minutes later, Hermione's hopes were crushed when Malfoy entered the Great Hall with Pansy. He was wearing his green Quidditch robes, a positive sign he had just finished practice. His face, though, caught her attention. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, his cheekbones sharper than usual. He looked ill and cold all over.

_Good_, Hermione thought.

"Gather around," McGonagall ordered, once Malfoy and Pansy took their place.

Hermione shuffled closer to Ron, almost surprised he didn't flinch from the loud pounding of her heart. This was it. This was the moment she had been dreading for the past week. As her arm brushed Ron's, it was only then did she realize what she was dreading most. It wasn't the fact that she had to dance with Malfoy—yeah, that was bad—but it was the fact that she had to do it in front of Ron. She would give anything to be Padma right now; to be dancing with Ron instead.

"Professor Dumbledore has granted the wishes of Miss Bell and Mr. Carmichael on several conditions," said McGonagall. "One: you must plan this event in a timely manner by working together. Two: we are shifting inner house prejudices into the unification of the houses; hence, why you were paired to live with a student of another house. By opening the ball with a dance, you are showing the school you are not afraid to stand together." McGonagall's gaze swept them over with a force that could rival a tidal wave. "And lastly, that each and every one of you has a wonderful time."

Hermione tried to smile, but her jaw was clenched too tight. The ball would bring many adjectives to Hermione's night but she was sure _wonderful_ was not one of them.

"Please stand by your partner," said McGonagall, fluttering her hands with impatience.

Hermione groaned and forced herself to Malfoy. Each step felt like fifty pounds. It reminded of her winter, trudging through the snow with each agonizing step. She walked slowly; slower than what was deemed appropriate. She kept her gaze on the floor, not bothering to acknowledge Malfoy, even when she finally stopped next to him.

"We will be opening the ball with a basic Waltz. Before we begin, I would like to merely point out that the gentlemen will be leading—ladies, you will follow. With every move gentlemen, you will begin with your left foot first. Ladies, you will begin with your right foot, because we are always right."

Hermione burst out laughing. Maybe it was the nerves, but McGonagall had told a joke. That never happened.

"Proper formation for the ladies," McGonagall went on, as though she did not hear Hermione's outburst, "is like so." She held up her left hand as though it were resting on an invisible shoulder, while holding up her right very slightly.

"Gentlemen, you are to place your left hand in your partners, while your right hand rests on her left shoulder blade, like so," said McGonagall, now demonstrating the boy's form.

Ernie nodded enthusiastically and asked a few questions. Ron gaped like the incompetent gorilla he was and tried to overhear what McGonagall was saying to Ernie. Hermione decided to spare her partner a glance. Malfoy was looking around the room, a dead pan expression, obviously bored.

She leaned toward him and hissed, "Pay attention!"

"Shut up, Mudblood. I know how to dance."

Hermione couldn't decide if she should laugh or die from shock. So, the rich Pureblood knew how to dance, did he? _Well, we'll see about that_.

The students had started to chat, and McGonagall quickly got hold of their attention with a snap of her fingers. "Now," she said, "please get into proper formation with your partners."

_Well, here we go._

Hermione took a deep breath and turned to face Malfoy. She was almost surprised, at first, because she did not remember him being so tall; she had to crane her neck back just to look into his face. When she placed her left hand on his shoulder, though, she did not dare look at him. Her right hand slid into his, a hand wrapping around her waist.

She couldn't help it; she flinched, and his hold only tightened, making it worse. It felt, suddenly, like all the air in the room had been sucked out. Hermione was beyond her comfort zone, suffocating in this iron grip that would not let go. She closed her eyes and tried to tune out the world.

Hermione was so close to Malfoy that she could feel his cool breath on her face. She could almost hear his heart beating. _Thump. Thump. Thump_. Or maybe it was her own heart, echoing in her ears.

"This is humiliating," she murmured, unable to help herself.

"Obviously," said Malfoy. "And painful."

Hermione couldn't even return an insult. She just wanted Malfoy to let go. His hold was so tight, so _strong_, that it almost left her breathless. She did not expect this. She expected a loose, somewhat lazy hold from her partner. Not this.

McGonagall walked to each set of students, adjusting their hold and giving them a critique.

"Good lord, Mr. Weasley. Bring Miss Patil closer. No, Miss Parkinson, you cannot switch partners. Mr. Goldstein, what are you doing? You're using the wrong hand."

It seemed like a year had gone by before McGonagall finally reached Hermione and Malfoy. Hermione had finally opened her eyes, and stared at the base of Malfoy's throat because she wouldn't look him in the eye. She finally wrenched her gaze away to look at McGonagall.

Their professor surveyed them closely for what seemed like another year.

"Fine," she finally said, and said no more, turning to Katie and Eddie.

Hermione snuck a look at Malfoy. He had that same bored expression, a lazy contempt in his eyes. This behavior started her a little; she expected some sort of protest or disagreement. Malfoy was never one to do things he didn't want to without a fight.

"What's wrong with you?" Hermione finally asked, unable to stand his silence.

He blinked down at her. "What do you mean, what's wrong with me?"

"I mean, why aren't you glaring, sneering, or even smirking?"

"You'd prefer me to sneer at you?"

"I'd prefer you to be you."

Hermione did not know why she said it. She hated Malfoy's disgusting behavior and attitude. But in some strange way, she would rather see that than this dead, walking zombie of a Malfoy. She was good with insults. She wasn't good with silence.

"—as irritating as that may be," she added, for her own benefit.

"Whatever, Mudblood," said Malfoy, looking away from her, at something over her shoulder. "Just don't step on my feet; these shoes are new and are worth more than everything you own."

"Now that we are in formation, we are going to go over the basic step to the Waltz," said McGonagall. "A box. Gentlemen, you will step forward with your left foot; ladies, back with your right. Proceed."

Hermione attempted to step backward—only to find she couldn't. Malfoy's hold was strong, not allowing her to move. Her eyes flashed to his.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?"

"You don't move until I move, Granger."

Hermione shot him a look of annoyance but waited, tapping her foot in impatience. He drew out the moment, being the prat he was, before finally making the first move. As soon as he did, Hermione mirrored the movement with her own step. He stepped to his right, and out of instinct, Hermione followed, allowing her left foot to step to the left. She brought her right foot over to meet the left so they were back together.

She had no idea what was going on and shot him a look of bewilderment. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Leading," he said simply, a smirk now forming on his lips.

This did not go unnoticed by McGonagall.

"It seems Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger has moved onto the next step. If you would be so kind, please demonstrate for the others."

"Just follow my lead," Malfoy whispered. The words seemed to brush the back of her neck, somehow, as odd as that seemed.

Hermione bit her lip, but allowed Malfoy to have it his way. She didn't have much to argue with. She had very limited experience with formal dancing. It had been two years since she danced with Viktor, and to put it honestly, he had two left feet. They had barely made it through the opening dance at the Yule Ball without colliding into the other couples. Even Harry and Parvati looked more organized than they did.

Hermione held in her amazement as Malfoy lead them into a perfect box. She felt the steps begin to familiarize, as they repeated them over and over: right foot back, left foot left. Together. Left foot forward, right foot right. Together. Right foot back, left foot left. Together.

McGonagall beamed as the other Prefect's, as well as Katie and Eddie, stared in shock. Hermione shot a nervous glance to Ron, unsure what she'd find, but he only stared at her, dumbstruck.

"Excellent, well done," said McGonagall approvingly. "And that is how the box will look. I want everyone to try…"

Her voice faded away as Malfoy continued to lead Hermione around the Great Hall.

"So where did you learn to dance?" Hermione had to ask. She half expected Malfoy not to reply, but she was surprised once again when he did:

"It's all part of being a Pureblood. Mother and father hosted many parties, not to mention the ones I've gone to. They found it necessary I learned."

"Ah," said Hermione, unsure what else to say. She couldn't think of Narcissa without remembering Diagon Alley, and she couldn't think of Lucius without thinking of Azkaban and Death Eater's.

"Well, you're not too bad, for an arrogant Pureblood," said Hermione.

"Only because you're so good at following."

Hermione scowled at him. "I could lead."

"Really?" Malfoy looked amused. "I'd love to see that."

Hermione started to smile—and stopped. Her eyes landed on Padma and Ron. While Ron was about as graceful as Viktor had been, he was laughing with Padma. Malfoy followed her gaze and frowned.

"Why do you even bother with Weasley?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied, a little too late. She cleared her throat. "So, why no sudden act of hostility? You've been uncharacteristically not so nasty today."

"I might ask you the same," Malfoy said coolly.

Hermione bit her lip; she didn't know what to say to that. She heard McGonagall reprimanding on the other side of the room,

"For heaven sakes, Mr. Goldstein, you need to be _strong_ to lead. Tighten your grip, grow some backbone…"

Malfoy went on,

"Whether we like it or not Granger, we're stuck together in more ways than I ever wish to believe possible. I can either fight you or deal with you. I'm choosing the easier route, even though I don't like you." He paused, and then said, "Besides, I can't afford you in my way."

"In your way from what?"

"Keep your damn nose out of other people's business."

"Don't tell me what to do, Malfoy!" she snapped, and stepped hard on his left foot. He winced and tightened his grip to the point of pain; she clenched her jaw but remained silent, not giving him the satisfaction of causing her discomfort.

"You filthy Mudblood," he scorned.

"You are pathetic. And you know what? You never even said thank you!"

Malfoy's mouth dropped incredulously. "For what?"

"For saving you in the Dueling Room! I could have let you bleed to death. Maybe I should have, with how ungrateful you are, you nasty prat!"

Hermione had not realized it but they were now veering off from the rest of the group. Malfoy had somehow made their box rotate, though Hermione wasn't sure she remembered moving her feet like this.

"Malfoy's don't say thank you," he said coldly.

"Then Malfoy's better learn or they won't have help the next time."

"Malfoy's don't need help!"

"Malfoy's don't need help or _you_ don't need help?"

She wasn't sure what it was about what she said, but Malfoy just stared at her and stopped dancing, dropping his hold completely.

McGonagall's voice filtered to Hermione's ears. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger, please return to the group. I am quite pleased to find you lot taking this matter seriously. I see potential, yet there is room for improvement. Next lesson, we will hopefully proceed to rotating the box around the room. We will meet again next week, same time, same place. You are dismissed."

Hermione caught up to McGonagall after the room cleared out. She wasn't going to say anything, but it nagged at her too much.

"Professor, may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Miss Granger."

"Is there something going on with Malfoy?" The words tumbled out of her. "I know you've spoken to him about being civil with me but I can't help but wonder. He seems so…off. Is there something I should know?"

McGonagall gave Hermione a level stare.

"Miss Granger, as long as I have known Mr. Malfoy, he has been able to tell a lie as confidently as the truth. And the truth, he hides most deeply. If there was anything going on Mr. Malfoy, I assure you, I would not know."

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><p><strong>AN**: Thanks for reading! The next update will be quick; probably a few days. :D For those asking about Wanted: I will probably post it eventually, but not for awhile. I've got too many other stories going on. :P Also, I am NOT abandoning this, I promise! I go through these phases where a certain ship dominates my creative juices. Right now it's Zuko and Katara from Avatar, so they're getting most of my attention. This story is complete though, so I will put a good effort into updating more quickly. I try to update based on days and review responses. ;) Stories with high demand get quicker updates. It just works out that way.


	12. Cursed

**A/N:** Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Enjoy the new chapter, even though it's a bit of a short one. :)

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><p>"I think you can do much better than me<p>

After all the lies that I made you believe." – _Better Than Me_, Hinder

**Chapter 12 - Cursed**

Before Hermione could believe it, October was upon them and so was the first trip to Hogsmeade. She was nearly up to her ears in homework and sixth years were now expected to use non-verbal spells in both Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. If that wasn't enough to handle, Hermione also managed to get through two more lessons with Malfoy. To her utmost annoyance, and surprise, he was actually graceful and fluent with his movements on the dance floor. The kind of grace that only comes with experience, though Hermione dare not ask, deciding that their uncomfortably close parameters were terrible enough without adding verbal conversation.

McGonagall watched the two of them carefully, with more attention than she gave the others. It was almost like McGonagall knew something, or was waiting for something to happen, though Hermione did not know what. But she had other things to deal with besides Malfoy and silly dance lessons. Ron was still angry about having to take them and Harry had divulged a crucial secret.

He had told Hermione about his lessons with Dumbledore. And he had told her the prophecy. Though Hermione was not one to dwell on prophecies and predicting the future, she had to admit Harry's omission left her feeling very uneasy. According to the prophecy, the one they found in the Department of Mysteries last year, it was foretold that Harry had to kill Voldemort, or Voldemort would kill him. '_Neither could live while the other survives_,' Harry had said. The more she thought about it, though, as terrible as it may be, the more it made sense. It didn't change anything in the end—Harry was always going to be the one to bring down Voldemort.

With this new bit of information, Hermione was fascinated to learn that instead of Dumbledore preparing Harry with complicated hexes and spells, they were researching Voldemort's past. Before now, she hadn't really considered that Voldemort had a past, but of course he had. And the past, she knew, held many answers for the future.

The present, however, was proving to be most problematic for Hermione. Ron had asked Lavender to go Hogsmeade for the first trip of the year. Ever since the Quidditch tryouts, Ron and Lavender were spending quite a big deal of time together. Too much time together, Hermione thought. Every touch, whisper, sneaked glances—it was like watching glass crack. At some point, the glass was going to shatter.

It wasn't until Hermione saw Lavender kiss Ron on the cheek did she decide she was not going to go to Hogsmeade; she would find another way to get a gown for the ball. Or even better, she would not be allowed to go at all. Harry was not thrilled that she was not going to Hogsmeade, but wisely did not bring up Lavender and Ron. Instead he ate his eggs and bacon a little sulkily at breakfast the Saturday of the trip, sending Ron annoyed glances after every two or three bites, who sat with Lavender a few seats down.

"Is Ginny still around?" Hermione asked suddenly, poking at her eggs.

Harry looked up and blinked. "Left with Dean to Hogsmeade already, didn't she?"

"You're probably right," said Hermione, sighing.

"Why?"

"I was going to see if she'd find a dress for me," said Hermione. Well, she tried. Looks like no dance for her. "Oh well. I need to go to the library, anyway."

"You could always have your mum send one from home," Harry suggested.

Hermione snorted. "Mum doesn't do well with owls. I guess that can be my last resort."

"What about the one you wore to the Yule Ball?"

Hermione blinked at him, and then appeared most scandalized. "I'm not wearing something I've already _worn_ to a ball here!"

"That was two years ago," said Harry, amused.

"People remember." When Harry just stared at her, she added, "You did," for emphasis. "And if you, of all people, remember, so will everyone else."

Harry laughed. "If you say so."

She gathered her things and stood from the table, shaking her head. "Boys. I'll see you around, Harry."

"Hermione!" a breathless voice called, when she had reached the doors to the library. "Hermione, wait!"

She turned, a hand on the knob, to find a panting Neville. He took a moment to gather his breath and then said, "Here, Hermione." He handed her a red and black invitation. "This is for me and Luna. We're going together."

He was red in the face, whether it was because he was so out of breath or something else, Hermione did not know. She smiled, regardless. "Thanks Neville," she said. "Have a nice trip in Hogsmeade."

He exhaled a long breath and pinched his side. "You not going?"

"No, I have so much to do with the ball," she said quickly. "See you later."

She was almost getting tired of saying that.

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><p>Hermione left the library an hour later, arms full of invitations. She was handling all invitations and the guest list herself; Malfoy immediately sent every invitation he received directly to her. He tried to give the excuse that he was too busy with Quidditch and classes. When Hermione reminded him she was actually taking more classes than he was, he promptly ignored her.<p>

When she arrived at her common room, Malfoy was sitting in a chair by the fireplace with his elbows on his knees, his face resting in his hands. He was twirling a shiny galleon in his fingers, the gold catching the flickering firelight. He did not notice her presence until she let the door shut and when he looked up, he appeared almost startled.

_Why isn't he in Hogsmeade_? Hermione thought, bewildered.

Malfoy slid the galleon into his pocket and sneered at her. "What are you looking at, Mudblood?"

Was it really necessarily to ruin a perfectly good question with such a nasty name?

"I was going to ask you a question but never mind. Heaven forbid a _Mudblood_—" she sneered the word "—ask the almighty king of kings anything."

"At least you finally caught on."

"You're so pathetic," Hermione said, more to herself than to him, and looked away.

"You know what?" He stood up and leaned against the side of the chair, arms crossed. "You've called me pathetic on multiple occasions. Explain…please," he said through gritted teeth. "I'd love to hear how you reached that conclusion."

"Your father is locked in Azkaban prison for being a Death Eater and breaking into the Ministry of Magic," she burst out before she could stop herself. "He nearly _killed_ me and my friends. Yet you stand here and try to act as if you and your _Malfoy_ family are better than me." She drew in a sharp breath and added, very slowly, "That. Is. Pathetic."

Hermione wondered when was the last time anyone had spoken to him like this.

Malfoy's gaze was measured and strained. She could almost see the cold fury in his eyes, hidden behind the cool façade he always kept up. But then she blinked, and his face contorted into something unfamiliar. She did not recognize his expression, and it was gone so quickly she could not identify it.

"You will never understand," he said softly, sounding nothing like the ridged, cold boy standing before her. He sounded exhausted. "No one can."

Hermione stared at him, too stunned for words. She half expected a duel, her own fingers twitching at her side, ready to pull out her wand. But Malfoy's fire was put out now, no longer fueling his anger. He looked defeated, and almost desperate, like he was holding in something so destructive it was slowly killing him.

She didn't know what to do with this Malfoy.

"Understand what?" Hermione heard herself whisper, for lack of anything else to say.

Malfoy glanced to the ground and shook his head. "Just go, Granger."

She took a hesitant step forward, as though trying not to frighten a wild animal. "Don't you want someone to understand?"

He looked up, eyes dead. "Why would I want that?" he asked flatly.

"Because," she started, and then paused. Because what? What could she say to that?

Malfoy just stared at her, long and hard, a look of torment flashing across his face, like some inner turmoil was eating him from the inside out. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to say something, but suddenly Hermione's name echoed in the distance. They both jumped and looked to the door.

"Hermione!" a voice shouted, louder and closer, followed by a pounding at the door.

"Ron?" Hermione questioned, puzzled, completely disregarding Malfoy. She rushed to the door and threw it open, nearly forgetting she was angry at him because of Lavender.

"What—" she started, but the look on Ron's face made her pause. He pulled her out the door so fast she choked on her words.

"Something is wrong, Hermione," he said, tugging her after him. He dragged her by the arm all the way to the Dueling Room at the end of the corridor. "Something bad. Katie Bell was attacked—No, poisoned or something. I dunno."

Hermione waited until Padma and Hannah went to their dorms, shopping bags tucked under their arms, before she spoke. "Just calm down," she said. "What do you mean she was poisoned?"

"I mean one minute we were following her back to the castle and another she was lifted into the air and started screaming," he replied, a hint of hysteria in his voice. "And her eyes went all black and pupil less. It was…scary."

Hermione felt herself shiver. "Where's Harry? Was he with you? And Lavender?" she forced herself to say.

"Just Harry," said Ron. "He's waiting in one of the empty classrooms. I told him I'd get you."

"Let's go see him, then."

They raced through the corridors, and found Harry sitting at one of the desks in a classroom on the first floor.

"Tell me everything that happened," Hermione demanded, shutting the door.

Harry and Ron recounted the entire story, answering every question she had to the best of their ability. When they finally finished, Hermione had to take a seat in one of the empty chairs.

"But it doesn't make sense," she said with a frown. "Leanne said Katie went into the bathroom and came back with a package. So when the package broke, Katie started screaming? Why would Katie do something like this?"

"Katie wouldn't, you know that. We think she was cursed or something," said Harry. "You should have seen her. She wasn't…right."

"But who would have put the package in the bathroom in the first place?" asked Hermione, more to herself than to the others.

"I have a theory," said Harry, exchanging a look with Ron, who in turn put his head down, looking disapproving. Harry went on regardless, pretending not to notice.

"I think Malfoy did it," he said. "Remember when I said he was up to something? Inside the package was a necklace. I knew I had seen it before and then I remembered I saw Malfoy look at that necklace back in our second year at Borgin and Burkes. He seemed interested," he added.

For a moment Hermione's mind blanked, and all she could see was the look of torment flashing across his face. The tense way his shoulders sat when she saw him in the common room. Was it guilt, instead of torment she was seeing? But, no. It couldn't have been him. He was here, in the common room. He couldn't be two places at once—not now, that the timeturners were all destroyed.

"It wasn't Malfoy," she said, a little surprised by the determination in her voice.

Harry and Ron exchanged another look.

"Hermione, he told his whole compartment he had a mission to do. How d'you know this wasn't it?" asked Harry.

"Because he was in our common room," said Hermione. "I was talking to him just before Ron came and got me. I don't think he even _went_ to Hogsmeade."

"You were _talking_ to him?" Ron asked, incredulous.

"He could've had Parkinson do it for him," said Harry, as though Ron hadn't spoken, determined to prove his point.

"No, I don't think so," said Hermione, biting her lip. "She was in detention with Flitwick for not completing her homework. She couldn't have. But the important thing is this necklace was for someone," she insisted. "Didn't Katie say?"

"No, she didn't. I bet it was for Dumbledore," piped up Ron.

"Or you, Harry," Hermione suggested, suddenly crestfallen.

"But I was standing behind her the whole time," said Harry. "Why wouldn't she give it to me then? Makes more sense to do it in Hogsmeade than Hogwarts."

Hermione took a moment to mull that over. He was right; if the package was meant for Harry, Katie would have given it to him then, before the complexity of getting the cursed necklace through the castle's security. There were pieces to this story they were missing. That much was certain.

"Look, Ron and I have to go see McGonagall and Dumbledore," said Harry. "They want the story of what happened and we're probably late already. We'll fill you in on what happens."

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><p>It wasn't long before the entire school had heard about Katie's incident. Several students had even been taken away from Hogwarts by their parents. While Hermione could understand how parents might fear to be away from their children, Hogwarts was still the safest place to be in times like this. The chances of that necklace actually making it inside the castle were slim to none, with all the protective enchantments placed on the school.<p>

It did, however, bother her there was no speculations to whom the necklace was intended _for_. That was the main fear amongst the students and parents. Someone was the target and no one knew who. No one knew who had delivered the package, either, and there were no suspects. Even though Harry was bent up on Malfoy, Hermione did not believe it. There was simply no way for him to be involved. She couldn't figure out the motivation, either. Whoever sent the necklace had motivation and a reason. What reason would Malfoy have to actually _kill_ someone? He was nothing more than a school bully, a prat, but a murderer? That was a stretch.

Hermione did, however, keep a closer eye on him, just to be safe. Malfoy didn't miss classes or dance lessons, but he was very distant. Was this normal? Now, she wasn't quite sure. She didn't really know Malfoy at all, she supposed. The boy she thought she knew seemed to be someone else entirely.

With Katie now gone, Harry was forced to replace her Quidditch position with Dean. Hermione couldn't really tell if Ginny was happy or displeased by this, but she had too much on her plate to look into it.

It was exactly one week before the Halloween Ball when she received a tiny note in her dorm.

_Hermione,_

_We are meeting at 5 o'clock this evening in McGonagall's classroom to discuss our final preparations for the ball. Please bring your current guest list. Thanks._

_Eddie_

Hermione had continued to receive invitations from her classmates—Malfoy never seemed to receive any anymore. Along with these invitations came the backstories of who was going with who and why. She wasn't one for gossip, but it sort of came with the job.

Seamus had asked Parvati to go as friends, but Parvati was hoping for more. Cormac McLaggen was taking a prissy seventh year girl named Fiona Griffith, who, Hermione thought, was only asked by him because of her glossy blonde hair that was beyond perfection, and probably charmed. Hermione nearly fell over in shock when she received her invitation from Harry's ex girlfriend, Cho Chang, who was going with Blaise Zabini; something to definitely give the school something to talk about. Lavender was going with Terry Boot, a fifth year Prefect, though Hermione had the suspicion they planned on switching dates, seeing as Padma and Terry were talking and Padma was going with Ron. And to Hermione's enjoyment, Harry was taking Ginny.

Dean had broken his ankle two days ago, the result of a crash landing in Quidditch practice, and poor Harry was going to have to replace that position, _again_. Of course Madam Pomfrey could mend Dean's ankle in no time, but broken bones seemed to be popular this year and she had run out of Skele-Gro. The potion needed two weeks to brew, so Dean was stuck with a pair of Muggle crutches until then. Dean insisted that Ginny shouldn't miss the dance and told Harry to take her, since he hadn't asked anyone. Ginny didn't play up the fact that she was thrilled and neither did Harry, but Hermione could see it in their faces.

Unfortunately, Hermione still didn't have a thing to wear. She had not visited Hogsmeade, and so she was going to have to go on the last minute trip with Professor McGonagall, who was taking a few other stragglers. If she couldn't find anything, she decided, she'd write to her mum. Besides the one she wore to the Yule Ball, she owned another formal gown. It was crimson and silky, long, reaching her toes, one she had worn to her aunts wedding. Nothing special, but it would have to do.

They were heading off to Hogsmeade at noon, so Hermione decided to finish up one of Flitwick's essay's after breakfast. Afterwards, she then proceeded to count the last bit of her money, sprawling the coins out on her bed. Gringotts was able to convert Muggle money to wizard money, which was why she had some to begin with, but she still didn't have enough to buy a formal gown; at least not a very nice one. She'd look, she decided, and if she didn't find one suitable, she'd owl her mum.

She glanced at her watch and realized with horror, she was supposed to have been in the Great Hall five minutes ago. She didn't know how long Hogsmeade would take, but she had the prefect meeting afterwards, and had not finalized the guest list yet. She shoved all her money into her bag and then, carefully but quickly, gathered all the guest list information and folded it into her bag.

Even though she was a prefect, Hermione couldn't help but run through the corridors, hoping she had everything. Someone mocked her on the way to slow down, but she didn't have time to care.

"Sorry I'm late Professor," Hermione breathed, hurdling her way through the Great Hall, panting.

McGonagall looked her over, with pursed lips, and Hermione immediately straightened. "We are still waiting for Miss Weasley," she said briskly. "Your tardiness is forgiven."

Hermione winced slightly at the word 'tardiness' but hope seemed to wash away the feeling of guilt. "Ginny? Ginny Weasley is coming?" she asked with optimism.

"As she is the only Miss Weasley here at Hogwarts, I presume so," said McGonagall, surveying her with a look of concern. Hermione was still panting, and knew she must look a bit out of sorts.

"Sorry I'm late," came a very familiar voice.

Hermione whirled around so fast her neck nearly broke. A smile flashed across her face. It had felt like ages since she last talked to Ginny.

"Didn't realize you were coming," said Ginny. Even though she was grinning in return, Hermione couldn't help but notice red and puffy eyes.

"What's wrong?" Hermione whispered.

"Later," muttered Ginny.

Before Hermione could argue, McGonagall called for attention by clearing her throat, and the chatter around the Great Hall immediately ceased. "Professor Dumbledore has granted permission to enter Hogsmeade because of the exception of the ball, and as there are so few of you," she said. "There are three Auror's patrolling Hogsmeade, as well as myself, Professor Snape, and Professor Flitwick. Any suspicious behavior should be reported to one of us immediately."

Hermione had not thought about the new security since Katie's incident. Of course, she had been surprised Dumbledore would allow this visit, but what could he do? Deny the ball to those who could not visit Hogsmeade the first time? With so many professors and Aurors, it was sure to be safe.

"Now," began McGonagall, "I'm going to go over the list one more time. When I call your name, kindly respond that you are present. Jane Adams?"

"Here," said a tiny girl Hermione recognized at once. It was the same girl Hermione had run in to with Ron on the seventh floor, the one who looked so petrified. Now, though, she looked more confident. Start of the year jitters, perhaps?

"Gabriella McCarter?"

"Here," said a Ravenclaw Hermione had never seen before.

"Oliver Dawson?"

"Yeah, I'm here," taunted Oliver, a rather pompous looking Slytherin with bleach blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

"Benjamin Ferris?"

"Here, Professor."

"Astoria Greengrass?"

"Here."

Hermione actually cringed from the sickly sweet voice and had to look at her. Even though Astoria was Daphne's sister and a Prefect, she had never paid attention to who she was. One glance around the room, though, and Hermione knew who Astoria had to be because she looked so much like her sister. Both had those high cheekbones, a pale complexion, and thin red lips. Astoria's dark, almost black hair matched Daphne's, though it was a little shorter but just as thick and wavy. Her eyes were bottle green, just like Harry's.

"Daphne Greengrass?"

"Here," said Daphne, sounding annoyed.

"Hermione Granger?"

"Here, Professor," said Hermione.

"Cormac McLaggen?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Cormac? He was coming, too? Deep down, she still felt a tad bit guilty about what she had done. She had tried to avoid being near him since the Quidditch tryouts and couldn't even look at him without blushing.

"Present," said Cormac arrogantly, smirking with such perfection it could rival Malfoy.

The last eight people on the list announced their presence, and then McGonagall led them from the Great Hall to the carriages. Hermione shared one with Ginny and two other girls she did not know, and they lapsed into silence as they rode over the rocky cobblestones down to Hogsmeade.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! I sort of imagine Astoria to look like Megan Fox and Daphne like Kim Kardashian, haha. I know a lot of people imagine Astoria as blonde but she's always been black haired to me for some reason. :P

**Review Responses:**

**Giselita: "As i said before, i have memory problems...how could i have forget this chapter?"** - I forgot it too, originally! haha So many chapters are re-written for this story that I'm afraid I'm going to post the wrong one. The next one was saved in a different location than all the others and took me ages to re-locate. I was afraid I hadn't saved it. But we're good now. :D

**Hilary: "This is one of the best Draco/Hermione fanfics I've read in a looong time!"** - Thank you so much! There are so many good Dramione's out there so I really appreciate yoru comment. :D

**Chichi: " I am a little confused by Ron's behavior, does he have a crush on Hermione in your story?"** - I would say so, yes. I wanted to keep Ron in canon from the real Half Blood Prince, and I think we'd all agree he was crushing on Hermione during it, even though he wouldn't admit it. ;)

**Destiny Crusader: "I also get the idea that you like the kind of guys that find it hard to accept their feelings."** - Only in fiction! lol But yes, in fiction and movies, I always enjoy the conflicted characters. Prince Zuko (ATLA), Will Herondale (Infernal Devices), Jace Wayland (Mortal Instruments), Prince Ash (Iron Fey), Dimitri Belikov (Vampire Academy). A few of my favorite boys. ;) I suggest you check those out if you like the conflicted characters. But in real life..not so much, haha. My boyfriend and I have been together since December of 2006 and I'm SO glad he was never like that. We clicked right from the start without the conflicted feelings or any of those head games.

We would be the most uninteresting couple if we were in fiction because we have no drama or angst or fighting, lol. But in a story, I really do like the drama and angst. It makes for a good story. :D


	13. Astoria Greengrass

**A/N:** Sorry for the long delay; I spent the last week in Cancun so I fell behind a bit. :P Enjoy the chapter!

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><p>"I guess you better go and get your armor." - <em>Battlefield<em>, Jordan Sparks

**Chapter 13 – Astoria Greengrass**

"Ladies, just past the Three Broomsticks you will find Madam Maggie's Boutique, where you will find all gowns, masks, and accessories. Gentlemen, you will find your attire at Zorro's, a few shops down. I expect all students to report back to the main square in precisely two hours. If you are caught leaving the village for any reason, breaking school rules, or performing in manners that are neither appropriate nor acceptable, the consequences will be most severe. Do I make myself plain?"

Professor McGonagall's voice was sharp and hard, so severe that Hermione could not imagine anyone daring enough to cross her. Hermione nodded to Ginny and the two made their way to Madam Maggie's, clutching their cloaks and scarves tightly, fighting the raging wind.

The village of Hogsmeade was much like the recent Diagon Alley. The streets were mostly deserted. The scarce shoppers that remained rushed from store to store, constantly throwing anxious glances over their shoulders. Several shops were boarded up, including one of Hermione's favorites, Ludwig's Emporium. Posters of Death Eaters were plastered onto the windows like wallpaper. Hermione caught a glance at Bellatrix Lestrange's snarling face and turned away sharply.

"So why are you here?" she asked Ginny, crossing her arms to help keep warm. "I thought you went with Dean."

"_Dean_," Ginny scoffed. "I was going to, but I ended up in the Hospital Wing with a dreadful head cold. Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me leave and insisted there would likely be another trip to Hogsmeade for those who couldn't go."

Somehow all Hermione got from all that was the way Ginny had sneered Dean's name. "Are you and Dean okay?" she asked.

"He just won't leave me alone!" Ginny burst, sounding exasperated. "I never have a moment of rest and you know how stressful fifth year is."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "O.W.L.'s are critical for your selection in sixth year."

"Well," Ginny said, pondering, "I wouldn't go as extreme as _you_ with my O.W.L.'s, but honestly…I like Dean and all but he's not—" Her voice cut off abruptly. "Where is this boutiqueanyway?"

"Just past the Three Broomsticks. We can stop in there after I suppose—Oh no!" cried Hermione.

A burst of wind took her scarf right off her shoulders. It danced wildly in the wind as she tried desperately to grab it back. The soft cotton slipped right through her fingers and it drifted away. She and Ginny took off to catch it—and then stopped dead in their tracks when it blew right onto the shoulders of a tall cloaked figure.

"Sorry!" said Hermione, but when the figure turned around, she felt herself flush.

"I suppose this belongs to you, Hermione?" Cormac smiled a wide, dazzling sort of smile that made most girls go weak at the knees.

"Yes, thank you." Cormac had a hand wrapped around the red and gold fabric, and Hermione was not sure how to snatch it back without looking rude.

"I have a tendency to be in the right place at the right time," said Cormac.

"Of course you do," said Ginny reasonably.

"Well, thanks again," said Hermione. She very smoothly caught an end of the scarf and slid it off his shoulders. It smelled of something warm and sweet when she draped it back around herself.

Cormac smiled tightly and turned his gaze on Ginny. "Who's your friend, Hermione?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Who _didn't_ know who Ginny was?

"Cormac, this is Ginny Weasley." Hermione gestured back and forth with a flippant hand. "Ginny, this is Cormac McLaggen."

"A pleasure," said Ginny. She made no move to touch him, but Cormac swooped down and scooped up her hand; Ginny's eyes widened in surprise.

"The pleasure is all mine, Ginny. You fly well, for a girl." He said it as if it were the best compliment in the world.

Ginny arched a brow. "Does that surprise you?"

"Slightly," said Cormac, giving an appreciate nod, a half smile playing at his lips.

"Well, I'm not your average girl," said Ginny. Hermione shot her a look, a warning, exasperation, she didn't know. A _look_, though. A look that said for her to stop.

But Ginny didn't see it, and neither did Cormac. He was grinning now, somewhere between a smile and a smirk.

"I must say, I never thought I'd meet a Weasley as desirable as you," he said, stepping back to admire her.

_How forward you are!_ Hermione thought, fighting a blush of her own.

"Well I certainly hope not, considering I'm the only girl in the Weasley family. I think mum is a bit too old for you."

Hermione burst out laughing and Cormac's grin grew wider, his honey eyes warm, the sun gleaming off his tousled blonde hair. He was very handsome, Hermione thought, but completely rotten at the core.

"We really should get going," she said, readjusting her bag on her shoulder and shoving her hands in her pockets. Like that meant they were leaving right now.

"Of course. It was nice seeing you, Hermione," said Cormac. "You know, outside of classes. And meeting you formally, Ginny. You should teach that brother of yours how to fly."

"I'll get right on that," said Ginny, winking.

"Hermione, perhaps we could meet in the Three Broomsticks later? I bet Ginny here could down a Firewhiskey faster than half the guys in Gryffindor."

Hermione thought that was probably true. "Perhaps we'll see you around then," she said.

"I certainly hope so," said Cormac. He inclined his head, and then moved out of the way for Hermione and Ginny to pass.

Hermione waited until they were well out of earshot before she said,

"Someone was sure laying it on thick back there."

Ginny burst into a fit of laugher. "Oh come off it, Hermione! I was only joking around!"

"You were _flirting_," Hermione corrected.

"Why not? You're not blind to that face."

Hermione scowled. "_Yes_, he's gorgeous, but he's terribly arrogant and a complete prat. Besides, you should have heard what he said about—" She stopped immediately, swallowing back the words. She had not Ron or Ginny about what Cormac had said. About their amount of money.

"What he said about what?" Ginny prodded.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter. Look, we're here." She took three giant steps, larger than she would have liked, and opened the heavy door to Madam Maggie's.

The boutique was larger on the inside than it looked on the outside. There were two floors stacked with gowns, shoes, jewelry, and accessories. Although Hogsmeade was currently not very crowded, the entire women population seemed to harbor in Madam Maggie's. Witches were yanking off dresses from the racks, examining earrings and necklaces in floor length mirrors, waltzing around in high heels.

Ginny looked around in awe, her hazel eyes glowing with delight. Hermione was not as thrilled. It would take ages to find the perfect dress in a store this size.

"Where should we start?" asked Hermione, staring around hopelessly.

"Look, there's a sign." Ginny pointed for emphasis. "The floors are arranged by size. I'm a 6 and I suspect you're the same or close, which is upstairs."

Hermione nodded. She was a size 4.

Ginny led them up the stairs, and to the right side of the store. The second floor was nearly as packed with gowns as the first. Hermione instinctively reached out and stroked the soft, silk fabric in front of her. The red dress hanging on the rack was stunning, silky and smooth. If only red didn't make her look so…

"Hermione, look at this one," called Ginny, from a few racks down. She held out a long, gold silk gown. It was very simple, with a plunging neckline, but beautiful.

"Try it on Ginny," said Hermione. "Gold would look lovely with your skin."

Ginny snorted. "My _skin_? Are you taking pointers from Cormac?"

Hermione scowled at her, but a tiny _pop!_ made them both jump.

"May I start a fitting room for you dear?" asked a short, plump woman wearing white robes. Her hair was brown with streaks of grey, teased beyond exception, bordering the style of a well-mannered peacock.

"Please," said Ginny, handing over the gown.

The woman smiled. "I'm Mary and I would be pleased to assist you both. Whenever you find a gown you wish to try on, just say my name. You'll be in room nine," she said, nodding to Ginny. She turned to Hermione. "And you'll be in room ten."

When Mary vanished, Hermione turned to Ginny and said, "Well this sure beats the Muggle way of shopping."

A half hour later found both girls in dressing in rooms nine and ten. Hermione laughed for a good five minutes, and was still laughing, when Ginny nearly had a break down because she couldn't get a blue satin dress up her thighs. It wasn't until Hermione—afraid Ginny might cause damage to the dressing room—came inside, inspected the dress, and found it was actually a size 2.

The best part of Madam Maggie's was the gowns itself because they were not ordinary. The gowns were bewitched to alter according to their wearer. Each gown was made in a basic size, which would then transform once worn to adjust to the user's height, slenderness, and so to say, bust size. They didn't' appear to adjust completely for size, which was why Ginny's 2 would not fit. Hermione had decided this sort of magic probably increased the price, but decided not to have a look until she had no other choice.

"I'm going to see what else I can find," said Hermione, popping her head into room nine. Ginny nodded in response, but was too distracted by the altering of a now sea green dress to really notice; her gaze was locked on the mirror, watching the magic of the dress work.

Hermione walked through the various aisles on the second floor absentmindedly, her hand touching each dress on the way, feeling the different textures and styles when suddenly, she stopped. A silver gown caught her attention. The style of the gown brought back a strong memory of her favorite childhood fairytale, Beauty and the Beast. It was on its own rack, the last of its kind.

Hermione walked dreamlessly toward the gown, as if it was calling her name. In a world full of magic, it wasn't a farfetched idea. Her hand clasped around the hanger tightly when suddenly, another hand gripped the other end.

"Oh, sorry!" said the two girls in unison.

Hermione recognized the girl immediately by the familiar dark hair and green eyes. Astoria Greengrass. Their gazes locked, fierce for a moment, and then Astoria sighed.

"You try it on," she said. "You had it first."

Normally, Hermione would have been polite and offer the gown but Astoria was right: she _had_ grabbed it first. And it was just too pretty to pass up.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, not really caring about Astoria's answer, but decided it was still polite.

"I insist," reassured Astoria, taking a step back. She fluffed her dark curls over a shoulder and smiled, flashing brilliant white teeth.

Hermione was just about to say _thank you_ when Astoria added, "Besides, the color will contrast nicely with your hair, taking the attention away from it."

It was very strange, Hermione thought. While her tone suggested it was a compliment, the words were sugar coated as an insult. She had no reason to insult Hermione, and that alone confused her and left her a little speechless. If that wasn't enough, Astoria ran another hand through her perfect dark curls.

Hermione heaved the heavy dress off the rack; her shoulder nearly came out of socket.

"Thanks again," she said, turning, heading back to the dressing rooms. Astoria's voice carried over the busy shoppers.

"I believe you're going with Draco, correct?"

Hermione paused and readjusted her hold on the dress. She really needed to call Mary; the dress was starting to hurt her arms from its weight.

She turned around.

"Yes, I am." _Like a have another choice_, she thought.

Astoria laughed, the sound so shrilling it could rival Pansy, and that was saying something. Hermione cringed from the sound of it.

"I hope his dancing has improved," said Astoria.

"Improved?"

"Oh yes," Astoria mused, another casual flip of her hair. "Our lessons over the summer were dreadful. He stepped on my feet I don't know how many times."

Hermione was not sure what she was feeling, how to take in this strange bit of news, and did not recognize her voice when she said, "You took dance lessons with Malfoy?"

Just saying that sentence, with the words in that order, made no sense to her.

"Well, of course," said Astoria. "If I'm going to marry him, he better know how to dance at our wedding."

"_Marry him_?" Hermione choked out.

Astoria looked both scandalized and devilishly thrilled. "Well, _of course_. We have an arranged marriage for when I turn eighteen. That's in just three short years!"

Hermione couldn't hide her shocked face if she tried. Malfoy was…_engaged_? Well, not technically, but wasn't betrothed practically the same thing? Hermione supposed she shouldn't be surprised—it was common for old Pureblood families to continue arranging their marriages. Otherwise the bloodline could be ruined by "dirty blood" like halfbloods and mudbloods or worse—muggles.

It wasn't that surprising, Hermione decided, but why couldn't she say anything?

Astoria stood patiently, those red lips parting slowly into a grin. The silence made it all worse, somehow, because Hermione was never this speechless. And really, she should be able to say _something_.

Finally, she found her voice. "I'm shocked, obviously," she said. "I would have never pictured it."

Astoria looked amused and irritatingly pretty. "Pictured what?"

_Malfoy betrothed. Malfoy being with any girl other than Pansy Parkinson_, Hermione thought honestly. She had never seen him interested in anyone but her, and even then, it seemed like nothing but convenience. Malfoy didn't seem interested in anyone, though.

Hermione's thoughts came on in a garbled, "You're not Pansy."

Astoria's smile vanished immediately, her pale face going slack. Then, just as quickly, those green eyes burned with heated emotion. Before she could say anything, Ginny had appeared through the racks of dresses, looking breathless.

"_There_ you are," she said. "I was looking everywhere for you! What are you—"

Ginny's voice broke off as she glanced between the two girls. Or, more likely, noticed the icy temperature around Astoria's form.

"No, I'm not," said Astoria calmly, "because if I was, then I'd be a single little twat just like her."

Hermione and Ginny both gasped. No, Hermione did not like Pansy, but that insult was harsh. And vulgar. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to relieve the weight of the dress.

"I suppose I better find a substitute," Astoria went on, nodding toward the dress in Hermione's grasp. "Tell Draco to save me a dance or two and be sure to cut back on the pumpkin pasties." She gave a small, knowing smile. "You know what I mean—the fabric is so delicate."

Another backwards insult. Ginny did not miss it, either, and fumbled for her wand, but Hermione bumped into her so hard that Ginny scowled at her instead.

"I'm not sure that I do," Hermione replied icily, "but we really must get going. I'll be sure to relay the message, Victoria, goodbye." She grabbed Ginny by the arm and dragged her away, back to the safety of the dressing rooms.

Both girls clambered into room nine, shutting the door behind them. Ginny was rolling with laugher when she sat on the bench.

"Did you see her face when you called her Victoria? Oh, that was great, Hermione!"

"Well, that girl is foul," said Hermione resolutely, still a little flushed in the face. She started to strip out of her clothes.

"Well I'd know, wouldn't I? She's in my year. Who did she call a—?"

"Pansy Parkinson." Hermione made a face. She stepped into the silver gown and started to pull it up, shimmying and shaking all the way.

"Oh," said Ginny knowingly. "Because of Malfoy."

Hermione whirled around, clutching the bodice to her chest. "Did you know they were betrothed?"

"Well, yeah. Everyone in my year likely does. Astoria hasn't shut up about it all year. Apparently she was never allowed to talk about it until now. I can't believe it hasn't reached your year by now."

Hermione frowned. "Help me with this, will you?"

Ginny laced up the back of the bodice; as soon as it was tied up, the gown started to adjust itself. Around the bust line and waist, it tightened, the bottom of the dress shortening to adjust to Hermione's height.

Hermione watched in the mirror, fascinated. It was even more beautiful on, glittering and shimmering, the dress of an icy princess. Glass beading with silver sequins, and French lace covered the corset. From the waist down were layers of silver tulle, thin and sheer.

Almost instantly, Hermione loved it.

But now came the worst part. She hesitantly asked Ginny for the price, since the tag was tucked away in the back where she could not see it.

"…galleons," Ginny muttered.

"What?"

"Seventy galleons."

Hermione stared. "_Seventy galleons_! That's…" she took a moment to do the mental math, and then gasped. "That's around three hundred and fifty pounds! No. _No_. I cannot justify this."

"How many galleons did you bring?"

"About eighty, I think," muttered Hermione. "But that's supposed to last all year and I just can't…"

It wasn't only the fact that seventy galleons was a lot of money, but the fact that Hermione did not want to spend that kind of money in front of Ginny.

But, when Ginny looked at her, she didn't seem bothered by that fact. If anything, she looked determined that Hermione buy it.

"It is a lot of money, but what else are you going to spend it on? If you have it…" she shrugged. "If you have it, you might as well buy it. And if you put it back, then Astoria _will_ buy it."

* * *

><p>"I'll take this gown."<p>

"Excellent choice dear," said the short, elder woman at the counter. "That'll be seventy galleons, please."

Hermione cringed, but slid the neatly stacked galleons across the table. She couldn't remember the last time she spent so much money. She wanted to cry.

Ginny ended up choosing a much less expensive, sold black gown that clung to her body perfectly and dipped down a little lower than Ron would want from his baby sister. Ginny offered to let Hermione borrow a pair of dress shoes, since they nearly wore the same size. Hermione was relieved that meant she didn't have to worry about having her mum owl a pair here.

But seventy galleons..

Hermione shook herself. She would just forget about the price. Maybe it was selfish but she just couldn't let Astoria have it. There was no logical reason why..only that it was something that only another female would understand. Ginny understood. Maybe her mum—no. No, Elizabeth Granger was a practical woman, who would never dream of spending such money on a gown.

But Astoria was so foul!

Hermione decided to stop dwelling on it. What's done is done. She settled back in her room, about to do a little late reading, when she glanced at her watch and gasped at the time.

"Oh no!" she cried, turning in circles, a palm smacked to her forehead. "I'm so late! Where is that list?"

She arrived at the Transfiguration classroom ten minutes later, panicked and anxious, the guest list in clenched in one hand. It was not like her to be the last to arrive to class, let alone a Prefect meeting. She nearly plowed over Eddie when she burst through the door, red faced and breathless.

"I'm so sorry! I was in Hogsmeade with Professor McGonagall getting things for the ball," she gasped out. "I must have lost track of time."

"Oh, did you buy your gown?" Padma asked, eyes bright.

"What does it look like?" Hannah piped in.

"What took you so long?"

Hermione did not like the suspicious tone that Ron had used. "I don't see how that concerns you, Ronald."

He opened his mouth and his face flushed, but Eddie called for attention before he could say anything else.

"Do you have the guest list, Hermione?"

"Yes, of course," she said, smoothing it out on the desk before handing it over. She cast a fleeting glance at Malfoy, saw Astoria, heard the word _betrothed_, and hastily looked away before he could even make eye contact with her. "S-so far there are one-hundred and ninety eight guests in attendance—not counting staff."

"Excellent, I'll send this to Professor Dumbledore." He looked up at Ernie. "Have you and Pansy arranged the entertainment?"

"Yes, I took the liberty of sending an owl to my father. He's friends with Axel of the Weird Sisters. They agreed to play at the ball. I told them to arrive half past eight. Pansy" — his voice broke off as he shot a hesitant glance her way — "agreed to show them where to set up."

Pansy flipped a hand in agreement, looking bored. Hermione couldn't look at Pansy for more than a second without looking away, thinking of what Astoria had said.

"Okay, great," said Eddie. He turned to Hannah and Anthony. "Have you two discussed how you're going to set up the decorations?"

"Yeah…well…" Anthony scratched his head "We have most of the stuff done, really. It'll take some time placing the decorations around the room but we'll get it done. No worries."

"Excellent. Well it seems we are all up to speed here. I was afraid we'd fall behind without—" Eddie cut off abruptly, his shoulders drooped, and he looked terribly miserable.

"How is she, Eddie?" Hermione asked softly.

No one needed to ask who _she_ was.

"I…haven't heard much," he said. "Her sister, Isabelle, returned my owl the other day. She's in St. Mungo's right now…but Isabelle seems to think she's going to be okay. Lucky Harry and Ron were able to get help so quickly…" he cast Ron a wary, grateful smile, in which Ron nodded and swallowed a little uncomfortably.

"She'll be okay," said Hannah, reaching out to pat Eddie on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well, we should get back to business. I think we should plan on having everything set up by six so everyone has time to get ready….Hermione? You and Malfoy will stand at the front doors and check guests off the list. I'll be sending out name cards for those on the list. Make sure they give them to you when they check in. No name card, no entry."

Hermione nodded, whipping out parchment and quill to jot it all down.

"And don't forget—we're supposed to open with our dance after dinner, so if you're still lost, you better find McGonagall."

Just like that, Hermione felt her heart sink.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading and for such great reviews! I'm thrilled you all are enjoying this so much. ;) I made Astoria a little too nasty to Hermione the first time I wrote this. Nasty without reason. I like this version better. :P Have any of you seen The Hunger Games yet? I went at midnight and was very impressed! Alexander Ludwig totally blew me away with his last speech. *sniffs* Excellent casting, all around.

**Review Responses:**

**Iris: "I'll go back an re-read the story, but I wanted to just tell you what a great job you did, and how much I love your version of book six."** - Thank you so much! And thanks for re-reading it. I think this version is much better so far. I found some areas where Hermione and others were OOC and now I get to fix it. :D

**Melanie666: "I am positively surprised that you include Astoria in your story."** - Yeah I really wanted to bring her to life in this since you know, she IS his canon wife. :P The term of the "arranged marriage" come into play soon. :)

**Eve: "Please please please put up Wanted!"** - I really, really wish I could right now! But it's not finished and if I post, I'll feel obligated to keep updating for readers. And I just can't have that many novels going at once without going crazy. Right now I'm focusing on two and it's tough enough, lol. Hopefully in the future, though!

**Rilla: "AND I LOVED LOVED LOVED the Neville/Luna moment where he's taking her to the ball!"** - Thank you! I so wanted them to get together in the books. But you know, I can live with it since it does seem to happen in the movie. I was beyond thrilled.

**Karen: " i wish u could also write thru dracos point of view on hermione!"** - There are a couple chapters in Draco's point of view, later down the road. ;) But I usually refrain from doing that because I like the suspense of only knowing what's going on in one character's head. It doesn't seem fair that readers know what Draco is thinking if Hermione doesn't. :P


	14. Silver Lace

**A/N:** Thanks for your patience! Hope you enjoy the chapter. :)

* * *

><p>"And, after all, what is a lie? Tis but the truth in a masquerade." - <em>Lord Byron<em>

**Chapter 14 - Silver Lace**

"As this is your last lesson before the ball, I trust everyone to put their best foot forward. Formation, everyone." Professor McGonagall lifted her wand and gestured for the students to take their places.

Without hesitation, Hermione stepped closer to Malfoy and placed her hand on his shoulder; he grabbed her spare hand and clasped it in his. The fact that this gesture had become a routine over the past few weeks was certainly disconcerting but it wasn't something Hermione allowed herself to think about too much.

McGonagall flicked her wand and soft, classical music filled the Great Hall.

Malfoy started to move, pulling Hermione with him, and soon they were waltzing around the hall effortlessly. Suddenly she lost her balance and stepped on Malfoy's foot.

Well, _almost_ effortlessly.

"Maybe if you learned the steps, you wouldn't trip so much," Malfoy hissed. His hands moved fast and he steadied her.

"Maybe if you were a better _leader_, I wouldn't trip at all!" Hermione snapped back.

"I lead just fine."

_That's not what Astoria says_. The thought hits Hermione so suddenly that she actually stiffens and freezes. She hadn't given Astoria much thought at all over the last few weeks. Except during these dance lessons.

"What's wrong with you today?" Malfoy shook her once, jarring her enough to grab her attention.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked. She glanced up to meet his eyes—up this close they were a stormy grey, a hint of blue to the deep, silver depths. But mostly they were unfriendly, and unwelcoming. They were also so cold.

"Does it make a difference if I say no?" Malfoy asked.

"No."

"Then I suppose that was a rather stupid question, then."

"Exactly how long have you taken dance lessons?"

Malfoy blinked, his guarded expression shifting in confusion, as McGonagall's voice rang through the hall, "Mr. Weasley, what are you doing? Miss Patil is your partner and your concentration should be on _her_."

Hermione turned to look at Ron and Padma. He was staring at her, a strange look on his face. She shook it off and turned back to Malfoy, who now, had composed himself back into an unreadable statue.

"Well?" she persisted.

"Why do you ask?" He made a turn, pulling her with him, and arched a brow at her.

"Why don't you just answer?" she rallied back. "Maybe I'm just curious."

"_Or_," Malfoy said, "you're just being nosy, like always."

"And you're failing to answer, like always."

His grip tightened and his eyes flicked down to hers, annoyed and angry. She just glared back at him.

"Seven or eight years," he finally said through gritted teeth.

Hermione's mouth dropped in surprise but she quickly recovered. "Then how come Astoria Greengrass, or should I say your _betrothal_, seems to think you are a horrible dancer because you step on her feet? And yet you haven't once stepped on mine."

A look of surprise flashed across Malfoy's face. He was too taken off guard to try to change it, now. His mouth opened and closed, and then he finally snapped it shut. "I am _not_ marrying that woman," he said spitefully.

"She seems to think so."

Malfoy twirled her once. "When have you talked to Astoria Greengrass, Granger? Trying to steal money for Weasley, are you?"

She shot him a nasty look. "No! It's a long story. Anyway, she said it was arranged for the two of you to marry when she turns of age."

"Over my dead body," he scoffed. "I don't care how much money her father pays mine. It's not going to happen." He glanced down at her, lip curled. "Not that it's any of _your_ business."

"Just making conversation," said Hermione with a shrug. For some reason, her lips twitched into a grin.

"Excellent!" said McGonagall, and with another flick of her wand, the music stopped. Hermione stepped back out of Malfoy's embrace. "I am quite impressed. I had my doubts, but you lot have taken this responsibility with the utmost respect. I award each house twenty five points."

Hermione nearly squealed in delight. At least something came out of her civil behavior toward Malfoy.

"Please remember we will open the ball with the dance after dinner and I expect you to put your best foot forward. You are dismissed."

Hermione turned to fetch her bag from the floor. _Hogwarts, A History_ and several rolls of parchment had split onto the floor. She bent to shuffle them back inside the bag when a voice spoke from over her shoulder, making her jump—

"What color is your gown?"

Of course it was him. Hermione finished packing her things. Then, she swung her bag over her shoulder and stood to face him. "Being nosy, are you?" she threw back at him.

"_Making conversation_," he said. His lips twitched almost into a smirk and Hermione couldn't help but conceal a grin of her own at the irony.

"Yes, you certainly need the practice."

"What color, Granger?" Malfoy demanded. He ran a hand through his pale blond hair. "I want to make sure we don't match or anything stupid like that."

"_You're_ being stupid," said Hermione. She made her way to the exit when he said, ever exasperatedly,

"Fine, what color is your mask, then?"

Hermione froze, blood draining from her face. With a frustrated groan, she smacked herself in the forehead.

"You do have one, don't you?" Malfoy sounded annoyingly smug.

"No!" Hermione sucked in a panicked breath. How could she forget about the mask? Why hadn't Ginny said something! Did she already have one? Hermione turned around to look at Malfoy, wide eyed. "The ball is in three days!" she practically shouted, pulling at her hair in frustration. "Do you think McGonagall can take me to get one?"

Malfoy looked alarmed at her sudden panic. "Hell if I know, Granger—"

"Draco!" The doors to the Great Hall burst open and Pansy stuck her head inside, looking impatient. "What's taking you so long? Oh," she said, looking at Hermione blankly, "it's you, Mudblood."

Hermione was too worked up to care about the insult. She was still staring at Malfoy in panic. "What am I going to do?" she asked desperately.

"I don't know! Ask your friends if they have an extra."

_My only real girl friend is Ginny, and she's not going to have an extra_, Hermione thought miserably. For one desperate moment, her eyes drifted to Pansy lingering near the doors, but then she quickly shook herself from _that_ ridiculous idea.

"Draco," Pansy whined.

"Just go back to the common room, Pansy," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll meet you there."

She gave him a look that rang of betrayal, her black eyes bulging in disbelief, but she said nothing. Instead she nodded once, stiffly, and then slammed the doors shut. Hermione and Malfoy stood there in silence. He looked, for the first time, slightly uncomfortable, but she was hardly paying any attention to him at all.

"Granger," he finally said, somehow managing to sound irritated and resigned at all once, "if you have no other options, I could write to my mother and you could borrow one. She has more than she could count."

Hermione's head snapped up. "What?"

"I said—"

"I know what you said. I mean, why?" She swallowed, flushing for some stupid reason. "I don't want you do to me any favors." The thought of Malfoy writing to _his mother_ about this, of lending Hermione a mask, was rather horrifying and humiliating.

"I'm not doing it for you," he said quickly, harshly, even. "I'm offering because you're not going to use not having a mask to get out of this ball. If I have to suffer, so do you."

Hermione opened her mouth, offended. "I wasn't—"

"Your gown," he demanded again. "The color?"

She just stared at him. Why was he so bossy? Did _she_ sound like this? No, surely she didn't.

"Silver," she finally said with a sigh. "It's silvery white."

He nodded once. "I'll have it by the ball," he said tartly, and then with a sweep of his robes, he was gone.

* * *

><p>On the day of the Halloween ball, Hermione was running late, having been caught up in finishing Professor Snape's essay on <em>how to fight werewolves<em>. Though the assignment called for a roll of parchment, she struggled to keep it at three. She was supposed to be in the Great Hall in two minutes, and she was just leaving her common room. If being late for set up wasn't bad enough, she still did not have a mask. She had asked Malfoy yesterday and he had all but shouted at her. _Yes, he had written to her. Yes, she would send a mask. No, he hadn't received it yet_. It was beyond frustrating, and Hermione was running out of time. Tonight was the ball and she still had no mask.

Outside the hall, she doubled over for breath before wrenching open the doors. Professor Dumbledore stood near the head table, surrounded by the rest of the Prefects. She bristled as she walked up to them, barely able to hold Dumbledore's gaze—she was so embarrassed—but his eyes were twinkling and he didn't look the least bit upset.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he said cheerfully. He seemed to read her expression because he added, "No need to worry—you are not the last to arrive. Miss Granger, do you know where Mr. Malfoy is, by any chance?"

_Damn him!_ Hermione thought angrily.

"Why would she know? It's not like they're friends," said Pansy. She must have realized her sneering voice was addressed to the headmaster, because she flushed and added, "Professor."

"Well, do _you_ know where he is?" said Hannah, and for once, Hermione felt a stab of pride at the bold Hufflepuff.

Pansy started to stutter, "I—he's—"

"I'm here." Malfoy made his way through the Great Hall, looking oddly disheveled from us usual clean cut appearance. His pale hair was ruffled with what could only be sleep. _Did he just wake up?_ Hermione thought, bewildered.

"Excellent," said Dumbledore happily. "Well, I believe I will leave the rest to Mr. Carmichael, who seems to have everything under control. If you need my assistance, simply send your patronus, Mr. Carmichael. I look forward to seeing the final result of your hard work. Tut tut!"

After the headmaster swept from the room, Eddie faced the group with a determined expression. "Alright everyone, you know what you have to do. Once you finish, you can leave. Let's try to get this done as quickly as possible."

Ron looked desperately at Hermione when the group started to separate. "How do you enchant the armor?" he asked hopelessly.

"Maybe you should have asked Lavender," she quietly snarled. She hadn't meant to say that, but she had seen Lavender kiss him on the cheek after lunch today and the vision was haunting her.

Hermione turned her back on Ron's shocked face and addressed Eddie.

"What can Malfoy and I do? Obviously we'll need to be ready early to begin checking in the guests, but until then…? Is there anything you need?"

Eddie gave a small shrug. "Actually, you can just go. Honestly, I don't expect this will take too much time. The house elves are preparing the tables and food. We've already got five people enchanting the objects around the room and decorating. The Weird Sisters will set up their own equipment."

"Are you sure?" Hermione was starting to feel a little put out and underused. "We can help."

"It's alright, really, Hermione," Eddie reassured her. "If we need you, I'll send a message. Just be ready at the doors by half past six, alright?"

"Alright," said Hermione, sighing.

"Thanks—Ron!" Eddie's alarmed voice cut across the hall. "No, that's not…" he pulled out his wand and made his way to Ron, who had failed miserably at enchanting the armor. He had somehow managed to transform an arm of one of the knights into a long banana.

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. She turned around to face Malfoy—who was staring at her. Immediately she felt uncomfortable. "Where were you?" she demanded.

"Always being nosy," he mused.

"We have to be back here by half past six."

"I heard."

"Good." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, you said you're mother—"

"Granger, I've got it, calm down," said Malfoy. She blinked in surprise, relief and a bit of surprise washing over her. "I'll give it to you before we head down. Meet me in the common room at fifteen after six." He placed his hands in his pockets and turned, calling over his shoulder, "Don't be late."

"I'm never late!" she shouted after him, but he was already gone.

* * *

><p>At five o clock, Hermione found herself scurrying around Ginny's crowded dormitory, her hands wrapped with mascara, a hairbrush, Fred and George's Anti-Frizz Potion, and her wand. Four other girls were getting ready for the ball as well, gossiping excitedly and buzzing with nerves.<p>

Hermione was using her wand to curl Ginny's hair, creating long, wavy red curls. "Ginny, I know this is wrong to say because of Dean, but I'm really happy you're going with Harry," she said guiltily.

"You're going with Harry? _Harry Potter_?" a voice gasped, one of the girls, from behind a four poster. She was sitting cross-legged on a bed with another girl in Ginny's year, holding a tube of lipstick, openly gaping. She had long, dark curly hair, a prominent chin and heavily lidded eyes.

"Yeah, Romilda, I am," said Ginny.

The girl shot a confirmation look to the other girl on the bed, and then to Hermione, who nodded awkwardly in return. Romilda then leapt from her bed and dashed from the room, as though there was a fire. The other girl, the one who was sharing the bed, took off after her, calling her name, "Romilda!"

"Who is that?" Hermione asked, still staring out the open door in surprise.

"Romilda Vane." Ginny snorted with laughter.

"Is she in your year?"

"No, thank Merlin." Ginny gave a shudder. "Bit annoying, really. She's friends with Natalie, one of our roommates. Romilda talks about Harry all the time. She's probably jealous she's not going with him."

"You're probably right. Ginny Weasley gets to go with the _boy who lived_!" Hermione mused. Both girls fell into a fit of laughter but Hermione quickly sobered up. Her voice came out in a hushed whisper, "What about Dean?"

Ginny looked up into the small, oval mirror that Hermione had bewitched to float in the air out in front of them. "What about him? It was his idea for me to go with Harry, anyway."

Hermione couldn't argue with that, so she simply gave a noncommittal kind of shrug. By the time she finished with Ginny, she looked absolutely radiant. Tightly woven red curls fell down her back. Hermione used her Muggle make-up on Ginny, explaining how much better it would look and used a sticking charm to make sure the make-up would stay in place. With the charcoal eye shadow, Ginny's brown eyes stood out brilliantly.

Ginny stood up and put on her new gown.

Hermione didn't know Ginny possessed such magic. Though the gown was certainly pretty, albeit a bit plain, it was nothing of the sort now. Ginny had transformed it into a very couture gown. It was strapless and full of layering fabric all the way down to her knees. The bottom of the dress flared out to reveal several layers of lace and fringe. The back had crisscrossing fabric—the front set in a deep v-cut.

Ginny placed her black laced mask on her face.

"You look beautiful," breathed Hermione.

"Thanks," said Ginny brightly. "Collin wants to take pictures of everyone, so I better get down to meet Harry. Shouldn't you be getting ready now?"

"Yes." Hermione signed.

Ginny's expression softened. "It won't be that bad. It's only one night."

"One _very_ long, _very_ miserable night, you mean."

"Something like that," Ginny said slyly. "Get going, then. You're going to be late!"

Hermione left the fifth year girls' dormitory and found Harry in the common room. He was sitting by the fire talking to Seamus, who was already dressed in navy blue robes. Several younger students were already dressed and ready, talking animatedly, not sure of what to expect tonight. Hermione knew _exactly_ what to expect tonight—a nightmare.

She took a seat next to Harry. "Ginny looks great," she said to him, trying to catch his eye.

But Harry had suddenly found the flames of the burning fire rather interesting. "Oh yeah?" he said, trying for nonchalance and failing.

"Yes." Hermione grinned. "I only wish I could stick around to see your face."

"Yeah, well," said Harry, flushing. "I'm sure it won't be as priceless as yours during the opening dance."

Hermione's grin shifted into an ugly glare. She was about to tell him exactly how priceless _his_ face would be after she punched him, but Luna suddenly appeared, as if from nowhere, and started to dust invisible bits of dirt from his shoulder.

"Luna!" Harry exclaimed, half surprised, half annoyed. "How are you in here? And what are you doing?"

"A second year let me in. I was about to give Neville the necklace I made, but I saw the Wrackspurts attacking you. You should think about cutting your hair, you know. It tends to be a popular nesting spot." She blinked her wide eyes and twisted a little to examine the walls.

Harry and Seamus just stared at her.

"It's very nice in here. Quite cozy and warm. Ours is similar, in a way, I suppose. A little more airy and open, though." Luna twirled a finger through her dirty blonde hair—her nails were painted a bright, vibrant orange. She was still wearing normal clothes, not yet dressed up for the ball. "Where's Ginny?" she asked suddenly.

Hermione blinked. "Oh, she's in her dormitory. Are you going to get ready soon?"

"I suppose I should. Have you seen Neville? I only just remembered the necklace and wanted to give it to him."

"Why didn't you just wait until you see him later?" Seamus asked.

Luna turned her wide, blinking eyes to him. "Because I might have forgotten later, but I remembered now." She held out what appeared to be tied pieces of twine with several charms: a bottle cap, a radish, a clove of garlic, and what could only be a small bone. "I made one for me to match. For best wishes, you know. Daddy got the bone from a Crumpled-Horned Snorkack from Sweden. They are very rare and are used for good luck." She shifted her attention to Harry. "You know Harry, you could use some good luck. I'll make one for you, too."

She stood up then and bounced out of the common room before Harry could open his mouth to object.

"A Crumpled Horned what?" asked Seamus, fighting down a laugh.

Hermione and Harry both spoke at the same time.

"Don't ask."

* * *

><p>Hermione got ready quickly. She curled her hair with her wand the same way she had Ginny's, and added a touch of dark make-up around her eyes. She used the anti-frizz potion from Fred and George's shop to make her hair look sleeker and the curls tighter. A few strands dangled in front of her face, unwilling to rest behind her ears. She fished through her trunk and dug out a simple white headband. It slid perfectly into her curls.<p>

"This is it," she said to her reflection in the mirror. The dress, she noted now, was definitely worth the money. She looked like a modern day Belle, but in silver instead of yellow. "It's just one night. Suck it up, Hermione."

Malfoy was standing nearing the fire place when she opened the door to the common room, his back to her. He turned around quickly, as if startled, and Hermione immediately took in a sharp intake of breath. He was dressed in solid black robes and his pale hair tumbled over a black half mask. Somehow all the black seemed to bring out his angular features, the silver of his eyes. He looked quite handsome, and Hermione's stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the thought. She gathered herself quickly and moved across the room, trying desperately not to fall in Ginny's heels—which happened to be a half size too big.

Reaching into his robes, Malfoy pulled out a mask. It was a half-moon shape, silver with lace overlay, studded with tiny, shimmering diamonds. There was something classic and timeless about its simplicity.

"It's beautiful," Hermione breathed, momentarily stunned. "That was...nice of you to do this. Thank you."

Malfoy made a strange sound that she couldn't quite identify with any certain emotion. "Turn around," he ordered, sounding frustrated for some reason. Hermione turned; he lifted her curls with a hand and placed them gently across her bare shoulder. His fingers burned when they brushed across her skin, and she shivered. For some horrible reason, Hermione felt her herself flush.

Malfoy fastened the mask over her eyes. Her fingers reached up to tough the soft lace tenderly. When she turned back around, Malfoy was staring at her. "What?" she snapped.

"Nothing." With an annoyed sigh, he opened the door and gestured forward with a flippant hand. "Let's go."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I did quite a bit of tweeking with this chapter; that's why the update took a bit longer. Thanks for reading!

**Review Responses:**

**Hannah: "It's almost a bit hard to remember what happened in the last chapter when you post a new one 'cause it's been so long since you read it.."** - I feel you! Sometimes I have to go back myself before I post a new chapter. I try to update every two weeks, that way everyone has time to read it. Sometimes I update before then, sometimes after. :/

**AnnaAza: "I really have not explored the Draco/Hermione ship because I thought it was purely ludicrous. I still think it is, canon-wise, but you sure make it fit!"** - Thank you! It's so great to see you here on another story! haha I'm so used to hearing what you have to say about The Black Games so this is a pleasant surprise! I thought Draco and Hermione was ludicrous as well until I came across a fantastic post-Hogwarts story. Do check it out: Lady Malfoy by cherrypie3601 over at HPFF. It's wonderful. I posted this story once, but now that I'm sort of going over it again, I'm catching many moments that seemed OOC. I'm glad you're reading this version! haha

**Giselita: "the scene of next chapter...when they are with the list and you know...what hermione says in front of you know who...i think that scene was a bit oc"** - I know exactly what you're talking about! There are a lot of things I've caught this time around that seemed OOC. I'm definitely working on that, especially where Astoria is concerned. I really want to make Hermione and Draco in character-that's the most important thing to me. Curious, what was your favorite scene I cut? lol


	15. The World is Too Heavy

**A/N:** I'm super sorry for the long wait! Now that it's summer I'll be able to update more quicky. Thank you for your patience. :)

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><p>"The world is too heavy<br>Too big for my shoulders  
>Come take this weight off me now." – <em>Rubik's Cube, <em>Athlete

**Chapter 15 – The World is Too Heavy**

Malfoy held out his arm silently to Hermione as she stepped out of Vladimir's portrait; too stunned to do much else, she took it awkwardly. Once she was steady on her feet, she dropped his arm and moved hastily to the side, allowing him to step through.

"Your manners are surprising," said Hermione.

"Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't want you falling on your face and doing more damage to those teeth of yours."

Hermione scowled at him. "You know, for a moment I thought _maybe_ we could be civil tonight. But I guess I was wrong. So silly of me to miscalculate your acts of chivalry."

"I already told you," Malfoy retorted nastily, "Mudbloods don't deserve manners."

Hermione was fuming. It took everything in her not to just march back through the portrait hole and forget about the whole ball. The idea was most appealing, but that would be admitting defeat. And that she would not do. Malfoy would not ruin her night. She would just have to make the best of it.

"Let's just get this over with," she snapped, and took off toward the Great Hall without a backwards glance.

Despite being in heels, she arrived at the Great Hall before Malfoy, who had followed reluctantly, cursing the entire way under his breath—she would have to check a mirror to make sure he hadn't actually cursed _her_ in some horrific way.

Now that she was actually here, Hermione couldn't help her curiosity; she crept open the doors quietly and gasped.

Gold and silver flamed candles were floating over the unusually darkened hall. A large crystal pumpkin filled with white roses levitated in the center of the room. White rose petals were falling from the ceiling like it was snowing, dissolving before hitting the ground. Instead of the usual four long house tables, the hall was masked with about forty round tables, each decorated with golden plates and goblets, light orange silken tablecloths, and a beautiful crystal pumpkin centerpiece. The staff table remained in its usual position, though it too was decorated to match the guest tables.

Knights in shining armor were stationed around the room, surveying the hall, as if on duty. The house ghosts circled throughout the hall with amazement and awe, admiring the décor and lavish.

Hermione smiled widely. The hall looked absolutely perfect—she couldn't have done a better job herself. She closed the doors slowly and turned to see Malfoy standing unusually close. She jumped back in surprise.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, with a hint of amusement.

"You don't have to be so scornful all the time, Malfoy. Even _you_ should appreciate the magic of that room," she said, gesturing to the hall with a tilt of her head.

"Whatever, Granger." He shook his head and took a seat on the bench across from the doors to the hall.

Hermione stared for a moment, and then casually slid into the seat next to him. She scooted as far away as she could, and the two fell into silence. She picked at her mask, her dress, anything to fill the time. Malfoy seemed content with the silence, so she snapped her mouth shut and waited as patiently as she could.

Thirty minutes later, guests started to arrive. Eddie had only just passed over the official guest list, filled with each guest name and a table number. Hermione noticed several names were crossed out, as others were added. She was to validate the guests' invitations while Malfoy showed them to the table. Of course, he had refused point blank until McGonagall arrived, threatening to take away his Prefect badge for not being more respectful.

"_As Miss Granger is the lady, it is advised she be the hostess while you, Mr. Malfoy, will show the guests to their tables, like a gentlemen,"_ McGonagall had said.

Even now, the words were still fresh in Hermione's mind and she couldn't hide her smug smile. Seeing Draco Malfoy, the epitome of Pureblood superiority, act as something lower class, such as a butler or host, was worth the name calling and the lack of politeness any time.

"Hi Hermione," said a pretty girl dressed in gold. "Here's our invitation."

It took Hermione a moment to recognize her. "Parvati, is that you? You look lovely!"

"You too, Hermione!" Parvati gushed. "That dress is stunning. So, where do we go now?"

"You and Seamus are at…" she started, checking the long list, "table twenty one. Malfoy will show you the way."

Hermione could feel his angry stare so she simply bit her lip to refrain from laughing. Might as well not add coal to the fire.

Her mood shifted several couple's later.

"Ginny! Harry, look at you! Your hair is actually…staying down somewhat," she said, laughing.

"Thanks, I think." He grinned at her. "You look great. I don't think I'd have known it was you if I didn't know you were checking us in," he said, handing her their invitation.

Ginny leaned in close and whispered, "Has Astoria checked in yet?"

"Not yet," replied Hermione. "Only Daphne and some seventh year—Oliver Dawson, if I remember correctly."

"I wish I could see her face when she sees that dress," said Ginny, disappointed.

"Yes, well, you need to get in there, the queue is getting longer! You two are at table five. Have fun!" she said brightly, gesturing them to move toward Malfoy.

"Do I look like another one of the 'golden protectors' for the chosen one? I'm not escorting Potter," Malfoy hissed, completely disregarding the fact that Harry was standing right there.

Hermione opened her mouth but Ginny beat her to it. "We wouldn't expect that from you, Malfoy," she said coolly. "See you, Hermione."

With that, Ginny led Harry through the hall before he could react.

"Honestly Malfoy, stop being such a prat," Hermione whispered, as another couple stepped forward.

"Here Hermione," said the dreamy voice that could only belong to Luna. Even with a mask, she was still recognizable with her traditional radish earrings and newly crafted charm filled necklace. Her bright orange robes brought on the full effect of Halloween, mirroring Neville's black ones.

"How'd you recognize me?" Hermione asked, a bit disappointed. Or did Luna remember she was checking in guests? Perhaps Hermione had told her.

"Oh, it was too obvious. Nargles—this hall is full of them. They were floating close to your face, revealing who you really are," said Luna seriously, patting Hermione on the back. "I'm sorry to say your mask is no longer effective. Hopefully no one else will notice."

Neville looked a little uncomfortable but Hermione was grinning. Luna was something else.

"Have a nice time you, two. You're at table five with Harry and Ginny."

"It's just like being at dinner with friends. How neat," said Luna serenely.

And there it was—Luna Lovegood's knack for making uncomfortable statements.

"Seriously?" said Malfoy in disbelief. He seemed to have heard the entire conversation. "Merlin Longbottom, even _I_ thought you had higher standards than _that_."

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Neville quietly, glancing at his feet. Luna wasn't paying a bit of attention; she was too busy peering around the entrance hall.

Hermione gave Malfoy the nastiest look she could muster—which must have done the trick because he simply shook his head and led Neville and Luna toward their table without another word.

Check in seemed to go smoothly. Only three students tried to get in that were not on the list, and they were too scared of Hermione to try much harder than get past her. Cormac had, naturally, flirted with her despite the fact that he had brought his own date, Fiona. Cho Chang ended up canceling her invitation with Blaise Zabini and came with Elliot Nolting, a seventh year Ravenclaw. The other Prefect's arrived and Hermione completely ignored Ron, still irritated with him.

Zacharias Smith ended up bringing Lavender Brown. Hermione thought they might make a decent couple, as both were annoying and self-centered. Terry Boot, whom Lavender was supposed to be going with, had brought Jane Phelps, a Hufflepuff that was supposed to be going with Zacharias. It was all too complicated for her liking.

"My, oh my, that dress sure is lovely."

Hermione turned her attention to the dark haired witch wearing a beautiful emerald gown. Hermione recognized that deceptively sweet voice at once. She didn't want to admit it, but Astoria had found a beautiful replacement of a gown. Though emerald was not Hermione's favorite color, the way it clung to Astoria's perfect body was a little depressing. Her arm was linked into Blaise Zabini's. He too was garbed in emerald.

"Which is why I bought it," said Hermione brightly, glancing back down at her list. She could feel movement behind her, and knew it was Malfoy.

"Draco," Astoria greeted politely. "I do hope you'll save me a dance."

Hermione kept focused on the list, though her ears were straining to hear every word, and her eyes didn't seem to move from one spot.

"Astoria," replied Malfoy, his tone blank and emotionless, "I think we both know that's not going to happen. I thought you were going with that Chang girl, Blaise?"

Malfoy's tone with Blaise was much friendlier than it was to Astoria, changing almost immediately. Hermione had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing.

"I convinced Blaise I would be a better date than that girl," Astoria cut in. "Honestly, all she does is whine over that Cedric Diggerly or whatever his name was." It was her tone, not her words, that caused Hermione to snap.

"How dare you," she hissed, anger radiating through her body. "His name was Cedric Diggory. _Diggory_! He was killed simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time! And you sit here and insult him!"

Hermione was so angry at this girl that she was shaking. It was one thing to taunt her, but to insult a boy who was dead? A boy who was murdered by Peter Pettigrew at the whim of Voldemort's orders? It was cruel and sick.

"You know, I really do feel sorry for you, Malfoy," she added coldly, glancing his way.

His arms were crossed tightly, and his brows were raised slightly in surprise. Whether at what she had just said or her ranting, she did not know or care, for the matter.

"You think he cares about some Hufflepuff nobody? Even _I_ know he cares about himself more than anything or anyone else," said Astoria, laughing bitterly. "No offense, Draco. That's not a bad thing."

Hermione was still so worked up that the words flew from her mouth before she could even think about them. "I think he cares more than you think."

Astoria stopped laughing at once, like she had been slapped. Hermione immediately regretted what she had said—how on earth was _that_ going to sound?

"Table thirty," she snapped, glancing back down at the list as Astoria and Blaise left her sight.

* * *

><p>After all the guests were checked in, Hermione and Malfoy made their way through the crowded hall toward table one. The Prefects, along with Katie and Eddie, were seated the closest to the staff table. There were two seats left at their table, one by Ron and one by Hannah. Hermione moved at lightning speed for the seat next to Hannah. Malfoy shot her a nasty glare before being forced to sit next to Ron. The two exchanged more nasty glares.<p>

As soon as they were seated, Dumbledore rose from his throne and the room was silenced. He wore a new set of jet black robes that contrasted nicely with his silvery mane. His smile sparkled through the dim hall, lighting up the room in a way the sun could never do.

"Good evening! Our head boy, along with the sixth year prefects, has wonderfully put this event together. You will see your menu card on your plate. After my speech, simply announce which entrée you desire and it will appear. After the feast, the ball will resume until midnight. Now, let us feast and enjoy this evening!"

The room erupted in applause as Dumbledore sat back down. Hermione grabbed her menu and scanned her options. After hearing Eddie announce he wanted 'option three' the other's followed suit.

"One, please," said Hermione kindly, as if she were addressing a waiter.

Next moment, her plate filled with roast beef, creamy corn, and garlic mashed potatoes. One of the knights filled her goblet with pumpkin juice. She heard Ron's animalistic chomps ripple the chattering table.

"Switch me seats. Weasley's making me sick," Malfoy muttered to her, just low enough for her to hear. She stole a quick glance at Ron, and had to suppress a laugh.

"Never," she whispered back, a smug smile playing on her lips. Malfoy glared at her and stabbed a fork into his pork with a bit too much hostility.

"Hey Granger," said a reluctant voice from across the table.

Hermione's head shot up from her food in surprise. Pansy was staring at her expectantly, without a trace of malice or resentfulness. The table had gone silent; even Ron had postponed the meeting of his asparagus and his mouth.

"Yes…?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I heard what you did," said Pansy. Her voice was still bitter and a little harsh, but there was something else in it too.

"What I did…?" Hermione was confused. What had she done? Her palms were beginning to feel sweaty as everyone stared anxiously at her.

"What you said to Astoria Greengrass. Even though you're a Mudblood and I don't like you, it was…good, what you did," she replied nonchalantly.

Hermione didn't know what to say. This was the most she ever heard Pansy Parkinson say that wasn't in some form of an insult. So she simply nodded her thanks, and everyone quietly went back to their meal.

Throughout dinner the Prefect's chattered animatedly. Hermione couldn't believe it; everyone actually sounded almost like friends. Though Pansy was still somewhat distant, she was not as rude as usual and even Malfoy attempted to be civil. He and Ron sat as far away from each other as they possibly could, which made Hermione feel a bit uncomfortable at Malfoy's closeness. Their arms were almost touching and as crazy as that sounded, she could feel the heat in that arm.

After the last of the puddings were gone, Dumbledore rose from his throne once more. "If I could have your attention. Please, everyone stand," he said, smiling widely and gesturing they stand up. He waved his wand and the tables disappeared at once, leaving about ten or fifteen along the edges of the hall.

"Mr. Carmichael and Prefect's, will you please take your positions to open the ball."

Hermione nodded to herself in reassurance, as though Dumbledore had spoken to _her_ only. _It's going to be fine. It's going to be fine, _she repeated over and over. It was only one dance. Perhaps after they opened the ball, Hermione and Malfoy could go their separate ways and dance with whoever they wanted, and things didn't have to get awkward. But who would she dance with?

Hermione didn't realize she was still sitting in her seat until a pale hand reached out to her.

"Shall we dance, Granger?"

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, almost smiling.

"No." He reached down, grabbed her hand, and pulled her to her feet.

Malfoy walked a bit too quickly, but none the less, didn't let go of her hand as they moved toward the center of the Great Hall. It was now completely open, everyone else standing along the edge, waiting. Hermione was so anxious about the first dance that she missed the Weird Sisters enter the hall. They now stood on a platform where the staff table normally sat.

Professor McGonagall stood in front of the Weird Sisters, facing the Prefect's, her wand raised. Hermione took in a shaky breath as the professor lifted her arms. The room was silent that Hermione could hear her own shaky breathing. It felt like everyone was staring at them. With Krum, they had been friends, so she wasn't quite as nervous. This was different. This was _Malfoy_.

Hermione forced her eyes from the floor and glanced around the hall. It was a mistake. Everyone _was_ staring at them. She found the safety of Ginny's gaze, who was not looking at her like everyone else with accusing and scandalizing eyes, but with courage and reassurance. Ginny gave a small smile and nod, as if to say _you can do this_. Harry looked tense and nervous at her side, but he didn't scowl or look irritated.

This alone gave her the courage to place her hand on Malfoy's shoulder—this support from her friends.

A hand went around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Don't look at the crowd," Malfoy murmured, just as the music began.

Hermione looked up at him. Somehow, it was easier than staring at the crowd. The soft melody hummed in her ears. She kept counting in her head, staying focused, until finally she stopped, just trusting Malfoy to lead. He gave her tiny, almost knowing smile. As they waltzed around the room perfectly, she thanked Merlin for giving her a strong and experienced partner.

The last tune of the music softened and the crowd erupted in applause. Hermione beamed at the astonished faces of her classmates. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling and McGonagall couldn't have looked more proud. Hermione gave a polite bow, as the Weird Sisters took over a loud and upbeat song. The hall was soon swarmed with the other students ready to dance the night away.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do next. She wasn't good at this type of thing. She relayed on books and logic, following the path of what made the most sense. Right now, she just didn't know what she _should_ be doing.

She turned to look at Malfoy, about to ask if he wanted to dance, but the look on his face stopped the words from forming. He looked guilty, but only for a second. He blinked and the look vanished.

"Is something—"

"Go have fun with your friends, Granger."

"What are you going to do?" she asked. Logic and reason had left her—she didn't know why she was asking. It made sense to ask, but it didn't make sense to care. And for some reason, she did.

"I have an obligation," he said coldly.

Hermione stared at him, only a moment, before it clicked. Astoria. Of course.

"Well, of course you do," she replied, trying to sound neutral, but failing miserably. She adjusted her mask and started to turn back to the crowd, when Malfoy said,

"It's not what you think."

She paused, her back still facing him. Then, casually, she shrugged, and her shoulders felt like ice. "I wasn't thinking anything."

When he said nothing to that, Hermione vanished into the crowd of dancers.

She spent the next few hours dancing with anyone she could. She couldn't tell one person from the next, but she recognized Seamus's goofy laugh when he came up behind her. She didn't see Malfoy once as she continued to move her body with the melody of the upbeat songs. The music pounded in her ears, and in a good way, she began to forget about everything. The music let her let go and feel free, for the first time in months.

The Weird Sisters announced the final song as the tempo slowed. Couples surrounding Hermione closed in, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. Breathless, she moved away from the crowd, pushing her way through. She smiled as she walked past Luna and Neville—and froze on the spot. Arms intertwined and bodies mashed together were Ron and Lavender, both oblivious to the rest of the world as they kissed.

Hermione just…blanked. There was an odd sense of what felt like betrayal, but that made no sense. Ron was not her boyfriend. She knew he had snogged Lavender, but she hadn't seen it, not like this.

And she didn't expect it to hurt this much.

She took a step back, as though she had been slapped, and immediately started to run—and slammed into a hard body.

Hermione just _knew_ who it was, and she didn't care. She gripped the collar of his robes and buried her face into his chest, well aware that he may just shove her away. At this point, she didn't care. She just wanted to erase the image she had just seen.

But Malfoy didn't push her away, and he didn't comfort her, either. He just stood there. After Hermione was sure she was not going to cry, she pulled back to look up at him. He was staring down at her with something along the lines of pity, and that only made her angry. She didn't want his pity.

She just needed to yell at someone.

"And where have you been?" she accused.

"You're hair is caught in your mask."

"You're a Prefect," she scolded, and damn it, her voice was starting to shake from holding back tears. "It's rude to just disappear when you're supposed to be here."

"I know." He reached out and adjusted her mask, pulling her curls loosely away from her face, but she didn't seem to notice.

"You can't just _leave_ whenever you want."

"I know."

"And it's just…I thought…I can't…"

She didn't know what to say, she didn't know what she meant.

"I know" He pulled her into a tight embrace. The weight of everything seemed to crash down on her and her legs practically gave out. She just let him hold her. "I know," he murmured again into her hair, and somehow, that was enough.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! Glad to see that many of my old readers have found me! Welcome to the revamped version. :)

**Marissa: "I don't know if I want to read the new chapters of Changing Fate again, ONLY because I can't bear to think of anything being different."** - There aren't many differences, basically me tidying up my writing. Also, there were some scenes that weren't as in character as they could have been, so I did edit those. I want to make this story the best that I can. :)

**anon: "I don't know if tjis makes sense but in this story I feel like I hate Draco, in a good way. I feel like he's this really annoying person that you just want to shove."** - That's definitely the effect he has, haha.


	16. Out With the Waste

**A/N**: I am really sorry about the delay guys. I've been so focused on my other stories and school/working. Updates will be slow, but not 3 months like last time. I'm shooting for two or three updates a month. :) Enjoy!

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><p>"Leave me out with the waste<br>This is not what I do  
>It's the wrong kind of place<br>To be thinking of you."

- _9 Crimes, _Damien Rice

**Chapter 16 - Out With the Waste**

The song ended too soon, and so did the peace that came with the soft melody and surrounded Hermione and Malfoy like a comforting bubble. They broke apart from their dance awkwardly; Hermione couldn't bear to look him in the eye. Luckily she did not have to because the hall erupted into applause, slicing through the awkward tension like a sharp knife. On stage, the Weird Sisters gave a bow next to a beaming Dumbledore.

Even with the cheering, the distractions, the image of Lavender and Ron still pressed firmly behind Hermione's eyes. But, somehow, it was a little easier to acknowledge now. Still painful, but a little number, taking the cruel and sharp edge off. She knew, even if she didn't want to admit it, that Malfoy had something to do with it. It could have been anyone who lent just a fraction of comfort that she needed in that moment, but the fact remained that it was him. Unlikely as it may be, she could not deny her gratitude.

She turned to him then, words of thanks on her tongue—and hesitated at the look on his face.

"Look…I—I have to go, Granger," he said, his voice unnaturally hollow. He was looking at something over her shoulder, but his gaze was unfocused. "This was stupid—a mistake."

And with that he vanished, leaving Hermione to wonder exactly what _this_ was. The crowd was beginning to exit in a fury as the cheery guests reminisced over the nights events. She felt herself being pushed toward the exit unwillingly, students rushing past her and knocking her this way and that way. She managed to halt just outside the doors, allowing the other students to push past her in their excitement. She tried to find Harry and Ginny—or even Luna and Neville—but couldn't find them in the masses.

Then, very suddenly, she came up with the idea that maybe she couldn't find them because they didn't care to be found. It was a selfish thought, and probably stupid and irrational, but for some reason this had something to do with Lavender and Ron. Or maybe it didn't. All she knew was that it made her angry as everything seemed to crash down on her in a wave of irritation.

Hermione hated this year. She hated constantly worrying about the safety of her parents. She hated Ron being with Lavender. She hated living with Malfoy. She hated Harry being so busy. And she _hated_ being second best at Potions.

Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione found herself pushing her way out of the Great Hall. All she could think about, suddenly, were the words "this" and "mistake" as she tried to make sense of them. There was an overwhelming urge to know exactly what Malfoy had meant. She had to know—she would not allow herself to understand _why_ she had to know, but she acknowledged that she must know.

Despite high heels that made her feet ache, Hermione ran straight to Gryffindor tower at an impressive speed. Ghosts floated up and down the staircases, gossiping happily about the ball, some even carrying pearly white goblets as though they could still drink. The staircases were otherwise nearly empty, and she had no problem getting to the 7th floor. When she reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, she shouted '_Mandrake'_ at the Fat Lady and sprinted to Harry's dormitory. Dean was sitting by the fire in the common room and asked about the ball, but she was in such a hurry all she could do was give a noncommittal sort of wave of the hand as she ran past.

To her luck, none of the boys had returned yet—explaining what she was doing was nothing something she had prepared for. Hermione rummaged through Harry's trunk hastily, fishing through clothes, empty ink bottles, and random bits of junk—she made a mental note to help him organize before he went home, because no one's trunk should look like _that_.

She finally found what she wanted and snatched an old piece of blank parchment. Pulling out her wand, she tapped the parchment and muttered, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Oh, the irony of how true that was.

Something told her Malfoy wouldn't have gone back to their common room. This was the easiest way to find out rather than search the entire castle blindly.

Hermione searched the Marauder's Map, running a finger over the many black dots on the faded ivory parchment. It took her a moment to find him amongst the many dots. The one labeled 'Draco Malfoy' paced inside the Astronomy Tower, alone.

What was he doing in there?

Hermione would find out later. She tapped the map again with her wand, muttering, "Mischief managed," and then tucked it back into Harry's trunk, slamming it shut. The Common Room was starting to fill up, but no one paid her any attention as she zoomed by. She knew the quickest way to the tower was traveling through the courtyard. Since students were all going back to their common rooms, the staircases were crowded. Hermione allowed this time to finally catch her breath.

When she reached the bottom floor, her pace slowed to a speedy walk. It would not be far from here.

Not five minutes later, she stepped into the court yard and gazed into the sky. The night was dark and hazy, moonlight scattered across the stone walls and benches. Thick fog grazed over the grounds and Hermione was pleased the weather was quite warm for October. She inhaled the fresh scent of leaves and grass, clearing her mind. Then she set off again, and finally stopped in front of the door to the tower.

She caught her breath before entering. Why was she so nervous?

Hermione pushed open the door and walked up the cold, spiral staircase. At the top was a small landing and another wooden door. A pause, and then she pushed this one open, too. Cloaked in shadows and darkness, it was nearly impossible to see, but a sliver of moonlight from the only window caught something and she was able to see a tall impending figure.

The door creaked shut. Almost instantly, Malfoy turned around. She could not see his face, but the way his shoulders jerked made him look startled. He still wore his mask from the ball, though it made no difference. Usually those grey eyes were lifeless, his expression blank. Even his usual smirk was losing its arrogance these days.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" His voice sounded tired and weak, as though physically exhausted.

"What are _you_ doing here?" she rallied back, ignoring his question.

Malfoy ignored hers as well.

"You shouldn't be out of the school…out here," he said carefully. He shifted slightly so that half his body was hidden in shadow, the other catching the moonlight. His hands moved to his pockets and he turned toward the window. "It's not safe."

"Hogwarts is safe," said Hermione.

Malfoy said nothing.

"Dumbledore wouldn't let—"

"Dumbledore is not invincible. He cannot protect you from everything in this world," Malfoy cut in coldly. "You'd be smart to remember that." She had a retort on her tongue, but decided to remain quiet. He let out an irritated sigh. "I don't know how you managed to find me—or why, which is even more troubling."

"I was…curious," Hermione said lamely.

He snorted, though the sound had no feeling. "That's one way to get yourself killed."

"Hasn't stopped me before." When he said nothing, when Hermione was sure he was just going to stare out that window into nothingness, she slowly walked toward him and added, "You ran off so fast. I thought something might be…wrong."

_And I want to know what you think was a mistake._

"Why should you care?"

Hermione detected the slightest bit of curiosity in his voice. She was quiet for a moment, trying her best to come up with something logical. Turns out, there really wasn't anything. "I really don't know," she said. "I probably shouldn't."

"Smartest thing you've said all day."

"Look, I just want to understand," she started, suddenly angry, but Malfoy cut her off with a loud shout that made her flinch.

"What is there to understand, Granger?" He tore his gaze from the window to look at her. Even in the darkness, those grey eyes shone, except they were cold and lifeless. "You need to just stay away from me."

The weirdest thing happened: she did just the opposite. Realizing she was now close enough to touch him, her hand shout out instinctively, but Malfoy stepped out of her reach to avoid her touch.

"Stop," he commanded, managing to sound angry and frightened all at once. "I know what you're doing. And I don't want your pity or sympathy or anything. I want nothing from you."

Hermione's hand dropped, as though scorned, and she felt betrayed by her own arm and wished she hadn't reached out in the first place. "I'm not trying…I just…" her voice trailed off into a sigh. Why couldn't she spit out what she wanted to say? "I want to understand what's going on. Is it so bizarre that I notice something is strange with you and I ask why?"

"Yes, it is bizarre," he said seriously. "We're not even friends, Granger."

"Maybe not, but that didn't stop you from tonight."

He cringed, and so did she. What did _that_ even mean? What was tonight? It was an abnormality, she decided instantly. A strange moment in time when he offered her some mercy; when he didn't take advantage of a moment to torment her and instead, gave her just a little bit of comfort.

Malfoy looked away from her then, clenching his hands against the railing by the window until his knuckles turned white. "You're still a mudblood." His tone suggested this meant everything.

"Why does it always have to be like that?" asked Hermione incredulously. "We are living together to show _unity_ of the houses. Didn't you hear Dumbledore? If we can't unite ourselves, how can we expect anyone else to follow?"

Malfoy scoffed in irritation. "That old man has no idea. When will you lot learn that purebloods and mudbloods are never going to unite? Not in school, and certainly not out of it. Don't you understand that?"

Hermione stared at him, wishing he'd take off that stupid mask or at least look at her. "You lot? What's that supposed to mean?"

"People like _you_."

"_Mudbloods_?" She snarled the word at him.

He made a sound of impatience. "No. There's people like you and people like me."

"What does that even mean?" If he didn't mean mudbloods and purebloods, what did he mean? Why couldn't he just say what he was trying to say? Why did that have to be so difficult?

"Nothing, Granger." Malfoy sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, seemingly just as frustrated as she was. "Just forget it."

"When will you learn that you are no different than me?" Hermione hadn't meant to shout, but she seemed to lose control over the level of her voice. Fists clenched in anger, her arms shook at her sides. "I may have non-magic parents, but I am a witch and I was accepted to this school just like you! I attend the _same_ classes as you. I do the same work, perform the same spells, write the same essays—I _bleed_ the same color as you!"

Malfoy was looking at her now, the hard edge of his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He was so inhumanly still he could have been a statue. The mask did not cover his mouth, and his lips were pressed into a hard line. But when he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft.

"You just don't get it. I _hate_ you, Granger." His voice shook with suppressed emotion. "I hate you for so many reasons. I used to hate you because of your blood, but it's so much more than that."

Hermione felt, suddenly, like she had fallen through the ice and was submerged into freezing, biting water. She could not understand the feeling, but there was no denying the coldness that iced her veins. "Why do you hate me so much?" she whispered.

"You're free," he breathed quietly, suddenly standing so close that his breath dusted coolly across her nose. If he had not been so close, she might not have heard him at all. He bowed his head slightly and lifted a hand. His pale fingers touched the edge of his mask, almost absentmindedly.

Hermione did not know what he meant, but she said anyway, "Then find a way to be free."

"It's not that simple."

Her hand was outstretched—when had she done that?—but she thought better of it and let it drop to her side. "Most complicated questions have the simplest of answers," she said.

"This isn't school, Granger." He dropped his hand from his mask and looked away, a muscle in his jaw tightening. "Your silly little books won't help you in life." She wanted to disagree, but swallowed down the retort. "Sometimes we're faced with something and have no real choice."

"We always have a choice."

"I don't." His voice was absolute, bitter, but beneath all of that was a sense of finality. A devastating, terrible sense of finality that left no room for hope or choice.

Before Hermione could reply, she heard steps coming up the tower. She quickly stepped away from Malfoy, wanting to distance herself, when the door swung open to reveal a giggling, mask-less Lavender. Attached at her hip, an arm slung around her shoulders, was Ron. Also mask-less. Hermione looked away so fast her neck nearly broke in the process.

"Oh!" Lavender burst out. "Sorry, we'll just…go!" she said, laughing. She swung an arm around Ron's waist and dragged him from the room before he had a proper chance to even notice Hermione. At least she didn't think he did. She still had her mask on, but he knew her dress…

Well, Ron was never the observant type. He probably wouldn't have noticed.

The thought made her very cold, suddenly. Something very sharp prodded in her chest. She thought, of course, that she didn't want Ron to know it was her. But that wasn't quite true. She _did_ want Ron to notice her. Maybe not at this precise moment, but…

Hermione cleared her throat, attempting to swallow down the pain.

"Granger," Malfoy started, almost hesitantly, "Weasley is a pathetic existence for a wizard."

"Don't." Her voice shook. She would not be pitied by _him_. "Please, don't. Torment me or pity me on any other day, but not tonight. Not tonight." Silence followed and she finally risked a glance and found him looking at her. Oh, why couldn't he take off that damn mask so she knew what he was thinking?

She could not stand it, suddenly, the feeling of her skin prickling as he looked at her like that, all intense and hot and cold, and she yanked off her mask. She took two steps forward and practically shoved it into his chest, careful not to damage it.

"Tell your mother I said thank you," she said quietly.

He caught hold of the mask, his fingers brushing against hers; the feeling made her skin prickle even more, a strange icy heat from his touch. The idea that he could effect her in any way just made her feel stupid.

"You're not going to thank me?" he asked.

"I already did. Your ego doesn't need to hear it more than once." The corners of his mouth turned up at that, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. Hermione could not refrain from letting him know she noticed. She waved a hand at his face and said, "You better be careful, I think you almost smiled just now."

"Don't count on it." He looked serious again, but his tone was amused.

"Fine. I'll just be negative and doom and gloom like you. Happy now?"

He looked at her, started to move forward, and walked right past her towards the door. She stared at his back in bewilderment. He reached for the door and paused, his hand outstretched. "I'm never happy," he said, and then he was gone.

Hermione waited about thirty minutes before going back to the common room, just in case some of the prefects were still up. She didn't want anyone to see her and Malfoy come in even remotely around the same time. Imagination only led to wild, crazy rumors and stories, and she had no patience or time to deal with them.

As expected, the common room was packed. Not only were all the prefects still awake, but some had let in some of the students. Ron being one of them, with Lavender sitting on his lap in one of the armchairs. Hermione froze the moment her eyes locked with his.

"Where have you been?" he asked, shifting Lavender slightly on his lap to have a better look at Hermione. She felt, rather than saw, Malfoy's cool gaze as he stood in the darkest shadow of the room with Pansy. And despite everything, despite how she felt about Ron, Lavender, and even Malfoy, Hermione smiled.

"That is something you have no right to ask."

And with that she walked past him, her chin held high and shoulders back. She thought, as she entered the portrait to their dorms, that Malfoy might have smiled just a bit as she passed, and just maybe, his eyes looked a little proud.

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><p><strong>AN:** So this chapter had quite a bit changed. I know it's really short, but I wanted to give you guys something. And I know some of you will be upset by that, but I really think it was too OOC so I'm trying to stay in character the best I can. Some of you will notice Pansy's little scene is not in here; rest assured, I'm saving it for later. ;) Anyway, thank you for not giving up on this story and being so patient. You guys are awesome!


	17. Invitations and Liquid Luck

**A/N:** I can't say sorry enough for the long wait. Thanks for sticking with me, guys!

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><p><strong>Chapter 17 - Invitations and Liquid Luck<strong>

It became chillier as they entered November, the castle grounds covered in a thick mist as the wind rippled the fallen leaves that scattered against the stone steps and brittle grass. Hermione found herself curled next to the fireplace more often than usual, studying and reading various school books, with an emphasis on _Advanced Potion Making_. She was determined to beat Harry and his new book in Potions. The fact that he was top of the class was almost unbearable for her. Had it been his own skill that had gotten him to the top spot, she wouldn't be quite so bothered; as it was, reading side notes from an unknown user was both foolish and cheating.

It must have been a combination of Hermione's essays, verbal answers in class, and Harry's successful brewed potions that landed the pair of them invites for Slughorn's big party before the Christmas Holidays.

Slughorn had sent a fancy invitation by owl to Hermione, requesting her presence the night before the students departed home for the holidays. She was permitted to bring a guest, and even now she was in crucial debate, though the party was a month away.

She had not been very excited about the invite until she realized she could potentially get a row out of Ron.

Her first thought was Zacharias Smith, knowing he'd surely irritate Ron, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized it was not worth it. Surviving a night with Zacharias would be unlawful punishment to herself that she did not deserve. Naturally, Malfoy would be a prime candidate, but seeing as they hadn't spoken a word since the ball, that wasn't going to happen. There was one more person she could think of; someone that would no doubt push Ron to the limits. But could she really handle him for a night? Could she swallow her pride and invite him?

But then Hermione remembered the way she felt when she watched Ron with Lavender. As childish as it sounded—and she knew it did—she wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt her. Harry would not approve, but he simply did not understand, and she wouldn't tell him anyway.

Dipping her quill into a bottle of ink, she scribbled a quick note on a piece of parchment before departing for Herbology.

_Cormac,_

_We didn't get a chance to meet back in the Three Broomsticks, so I was wondering: Would you like to go to Slughorn's party with me? You know, to catch up and have some fun._

_Hermione_

The note was somewhat dull and lame in Hermione's opinion, but what else could she say? _Oh hi Cormac, I'm trying to get back at Ron Weasley and want to see him suffer the way I do when I see him with Lavender, so how about going to Slughorn's party with me?_

Yeah, surely that would do the trick, with such an appealing offer and all.

Hermione sealed the note and with a tiny flick of her wand, it zoomed out of her dormitory toward its recipient.

To her sinister enjoyment, Ron had not received an invitation to the party, which seemed to put him in a really foul mood. He seemed to know she was upset about something, but could not figure out what it was. Whenever he asked Harry, Harry would shake his head and act like he didn't know. Hermione suspected he did, but Harry didn't like being caught in the middle.

Once, he shouted at _in the middle_ of Potions, in front of everyone, demanding to know what her problem was. She had been so angry and embarrassed with him that she hadn't spoken to him since. She sat with Harry or Ginny during meal times and spent most of her free time in the library or her common room, avoiding him at all costs.

As if the stress of Potions wasn't enough, Runes was beginning to be a struggle, seeing as she was still Malfoy's partner. They were pretending their odd conversation in the Astronomy Tower had never happened and there was suddenly an awkward wall between them. Hermione had no idea why he was so closed off, so distant. He wasn't even mean to her. He just didn't seem to care about…well, anything. Not even jumping in to tease her when Crabbe or Goyle made a remark.

Something was definitely going on with him. Hermione just did not know what it was.

Later in the day, she walked with Harry to Transfiguration after leaving Herbology, folding a piece of parchment into her bag with a smile on her face. She rubbed her hands together, using the friction to warm them; the wind had been quite chilly in the greenhouse.

"Secret admirer?" Harry asked playfully. "I saw that note zoom in during Sprout's lesson."

"Oh, not really an admirer," said Hermione, trying her best to sound nonchalant. She was beyond relived with Cormac's answer, and wanted to surprise both Harry and Ron at the party. "Just a friend."

Harry seemed distracted when he said, "So have you talked to Ron yet?"

"No."

"Why don't you ju—"

"Just talk to him? Forget it, Harry. He's been acting like a prat and his outburst was beyond humiliating. I have nothing to say to him." She did not want to admit most of her anger toward him surrounded the girl he often had attached to his hip.

Harry opened his mouth, and closed it. He said nothing.

_This is the best part about his company_, Hermione thought. He didn't pry or push a subject. Harry would always listen, but he never tried to fix her problems. Ginny had reacted a bit differently: she had _accidently_ spilled a bowl of pumpkin juice all over Lavender and Ron during breakfast. Lavender shrieked and ran from the Great Hall, mortified, while Ron's ears blazed scarlet.

It had been an excellent breakfast.

Hermione took a seat next to Harry when they arrived in Transfiguration. Quiet chatter and a cool breeze from a cracked window filled the room. Ron came in shortly after, pulling Lavender along by the hand. To Hermione's surprise, they did not sit next to each other like usual; instead, Lavender sat next to Parvati, a couple seats away. Ron sat directly behind Hermione, causing a shiver to run down her spin.

Soon after Crabbe stumbled his way in—how on earth did he manage to scrape an Acceptable?—Professor McGonagall came bustling from her office, carrying a large stack of parchment and _The Guide to Transfiguration, Level 6_. She turned her attention to the class after setting the parchment and book on her desk, adjusting her glasses as she spoke, "Good afternoon. From now until the holidays we shall be learning how to transfigure different parts of the human body."

The class broke out into quiet excitement and Hermione sat up a little straighter. She had been waiting for this lesson for weeks.

"Before we begin, I wish for you to read Chapter Eleven," said McGonagall. "It is crucial you understand the basic principles behind the incantation."

Hermione opened her book quickly and began re-reading the chapter before Harry had even pulled out his book.

_The transfiguration of a human being is an extensive and complicated task only strong witches and wizards may perform. The art of such work is—_

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a sharp poke in her back. She peered up at McGonagall, who seemed preoccupied with the papers on her desk, before turning around.

"What?"

"I wanted to say sorry," whispered Ron.

"You should be. Apology not accepted." Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Harry fidget in his seat slightly, like he was trying not to listen but couldn't help it.

"I shouldn't have shouted at you. I just…I don't get why you're so mad at me."

"Hmm."

Ron hesitated and then dropped his voice even lower. "I thought maybe I could go with you to Slughorn's party since Harry said you were invited and you know, we could catch up or something."

"Did you? I'm sorry to inform you but I already have a date," snapped Hermione.

"Who?" asked Harry and Ron simultaneously, loud enough to cause other's to look at them.

"Cormac of course," she answered, as if they should have known that. She flipped the page of her book absentmindedly.

Harry gaped at her and Ron jumped nearly out of his seat. "What?" he half shouted.

The class turned to stare at Ron, as did Professor McGonagall. Her hand stilled on her quill and her eyes flicked up in that intense way of hers, causing Ron to shrink back into his seat at the weight of her stare. Lavender looked as shocked as if he had sprouted five heads. The silence seemed to stretch forever and Hermione felt her own face starting to flush.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall's voice was flat as stone.

Hermione did not dare look behind her; she could only imagine his mortified and embarrassed expression.

"N-no, Professor," said Ron quietly.

"Good," said McGonagall briskly. She gave him one final stern look before going back to her parchment.

Hermione sighed and dropped her gaze back to the textbook.

_To begin the transfiguration, one must clear the mind completely and concentrate on th—_

She was nudged in the back once again by Ron.

"What now, Ronald?" she hissed over her shoulder.

"Cormac McLaggen? You can't be serious, Hermione! He's a prat! He's snogged almost every girl in school!"

Hermione's eyes shot up quickly, but McGonagall was too absorbed in whatever it was she was writing.

"Not every girl. Obviously he hasn't snogged Lavender yet," said Hermione, "as you two are too busy thrashing around like a pair of eels."

Neville coughed uncomfortably and she felt Harry twitch in his chair, no doubt her words carrying over to the both of them. Ron was silent for the rest of class.

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><p>Saturday came in the blur, the first match of the Quidditch season hanging in the air as Gryffindor would face Slytherin. The air was chilly and foggy, and not entirely ideal riding conditions, but it was 'doable' according to Harry.<p>

Hermione wrapped her crimson and gold scarf around her neck and made her way down to breakfast alone, wishing more than ever that Harry had been a Prefect instead of Ron. Honestly, what was Dumbledore playing at? How could Ron be more deserving than Harry?

The Great Hall was filled with chatter, louder than usual at this hour, the excitement for the first Quidditch match of the season hanging in the air. Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table with the rest of his team, their heads bent together.

Dean was to play Chaser in place of Katie, as she still remained in St. Mungo's. Ginny and Demelza Robbins were the other Chasers. Two younger boys named Jimmy Peakes and Michael Coote were the beaters, leaving Ron for Keeper and Harry for Seeker. Ginny had told Hermione about Ron's horrendous practices. He had caused Demelza to cry on several occasions and had accidently hit a bludger towards Coote, giving him a bloody nose.

Hermione was in a tight bind, unable to decide who she wanted to win more…Malfoy or Ron. Although she didn't want to admit it, part of her would rather Gryffindor suffer if it caused Ron to lose in the end. She felt just that selfish that she was embarrassed at the thought.

Ginny waved her over as the team broke apart. Ignoring Ron, Hermione took a seat and aimed her question to Ginny and Harry.

"Are you ready for the big game?"

"Yeah, I think we're going to win actually," said Harry, spooning eggs onto his plate." Dean has done fairly well with the adjustment and so has everyone else."

Hermione poured a glass of pumpkin juice and glanced at Ron reluctantly; he looked slightly green. Harry seemed to notice this as well. He clapped a hand to Ron's back.

"Cheer up mate. You need to eat something."

"Can't eat," Ron mumbled miserably.

"At least have some pumpkin juice," said Harry, sliding a glass towards Ron. If Hermione hadn't been paying attention, she would have missed Harry slip something into Ron's drink. Her eyes widened, flooded with shock.

"Stop!" she yelled, looking exasperatedly at Harry, forgetting she was mad at Ron. "You put something in his drink. I just saw you do it!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about Hermione," answered Harry flatly.

She pointed at the goblet frantically. "Ron, don't drink that! He probably spiked it with lucky—"

"Don't tell me what to do," Ron interrupted. "Why don't you go over and talk to McLaggen about the match or something?" He put the glass to his mouth and swallowed the juice down in one gulp. Then he slammed the goblet down, stood, and sulked out of the Great Hall. Hermione watched him go with wide, gaping eyes. She turned to Harry, suddenly furious.

"I saw you put something in his drink, Harry," she said quietly so Ginny did not overhear. "You know that potion is illegal to use during a Quidditch match!"

"Hark whose talking? How's your Confundus Charm lately?"

Hermione glared at him and stormed out of the Great Hall, not bothering to wish Harry good luck.

When she reached Vladimir's portrait—still fuming and angry—she shouted "immortal" at him so loudly that he almost wouldn't let her in. He swung open reluctantly and she marched across the common room towards her dormitory; however, before she could touch her wand to the Hogwarts Crest, the portrait swung open. Malfoy stepped out, looking white in the face and gaunt. He was so distracted that he almost ran right into her.

Hermione took a step back, suddenly finding the room to be very small. It was the first time she had been alone with him since the Astronomy Tower. His face was unnaturally hollow, his platinum hair ruffled, like he had spent hours running his hands through it. But his clothes, a solid black suit, surprised her more than anything. Not because of the style or color, but because of what today was.

Malfoy seemed to notice her then, his grey eyes snapping to hers. They were so empty all she managed to do was stare at him. He looked at her only a moment, expressionless, before continuing through the common room.

"Shouldn't you be at the pitch?" she asked suspiciously.

"As if it concerns you, Granger," he muttered, not bothering to look back at her. "No, I'm not flying today."

"Why not?" It wasn't like him to miss a Quidditch match. Especially against Gryffindor and he _was_ the Captain.

"I don't feel well."

"But you're the—"

He came to an abrupt halt at Vladimir's portrait and whirled around. "Don't tell me how to run my team, Granger. And if you must know because you're incapable of keeping your nose out of other peoples' business, I left Urquhart in charge. You should be celebrating. Potter might catch the snitch after all." With that he shoved open the door and vanished out of sight.

Hermione stared after him in shock. If Malfoy really was sick, where would he be going? Hospital Wing, maybe? Yes, that was probably it. As much as she didn't want to admit it, he was right. It really wasn't any of her business. With a sigh, she decided she better hurry down to the pitch if she didn't want to be late.

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><p>She took her seat in the Gryffindor stands next to Neville. She scanned the crowd, half hoping to find Cormac and sit with him. <em>Let Ron take that in, <em>she thought spitefully, but Cormac was nowhere to be found.

The wind was biting, so she slid on a pair of gloves and twisted her scarf higher around her neck and face. She was relieved when Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle up ten minutes early.

"Well, here we go. It's the first match of the season everyone and I say Gryffindor is surprisingly at an advantage today, as two key Slytherin players are out: Malfoy and Zabini," said a familiar, arrogant voice Hermione recognized as Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player. "Looks like Potter might catch a break, seeing as the team he's put together. Many thought perhaps a new Keeper would surface, after Weasley's performance last year, but no matter. Being the best friend of the Captain sure does come with advantages…"

There were several _boos_ from the Gryffindor stands. Hermione shot a glare toward the commentator's podium. _Who on earth would let him commentate? _she thought bitterly. _I'm so glad I asked Cormac and not him._

"And Urquhart has the Quaffle. He's racing towards Weasley…"

Hermione sucked in a breath and covered her eyes slightly, prepared for the worst. To everyone's surprise, including his own, Ron caught the Quaffle.

"Well, looks like Weasley had a stroke of luck that time…" said Smith through the magical microphone.

Ron tossed the Quaffle to Ginny, who soared across the pitch and sent the ball flying straight through the top post with perfect ease.

"And there's a Weasley who knows how to play. Oh, sorry Professor. Gryffindor scores the first goal. Ten to zero."

About a half hour later, Gryffindor was leading one hundred points to twenty. Ginny had scored most of the points but Demelza scored her share. Hermione only remembered Dean scoring twice, but he seemed to play well with Ginny and Demelza. Ron had made some truly miraculous saves, though Hermione blamed that on luck. There was still no sign of the snitch. Harry was carefully circling the top of the pitch like a vulture waiting for its prey. But suddenly Blaine Harper, Malfoy's replacement Seeker, pointed his broom and dove straight toward Harry. With shocking speed, Harper bumped into Harry roughly, nearly knocking him of his broom.

Hermione shouted, as did the other Gryffindors, but Madam Hooch had missed the collision, being too busy reprimanding another Slytherin.

"Did you see that?" Hermione asked Neville exasperatedly, furious at the fifth year replacement.

"Yeah, and Madam Hooch didn't even blow her whistle!" said Neville angrily.

"Bloody hell!" roared Seamus, placing his hands over his face. "Call somethin' Hooch!"

"We're still winning you know," said Parvati, who was standing next to Seamus. Lavender stood on the other side of Parvati, clutching her scarf as if her life depended on it, her eyes trained on Ron with nothing but pure admiration. Hermione wanted to vomit.

"Looks like a little problem with Potter and Harper? Seems Harper has taken care of it and—Oh! I think Harper found the snitch!" shouted Smith, as Harper shot towards the bottom of the pitch.

The crowd gasped as Harry darted closely after him. Harper was closer and Slytherin would win if he caught the snitch first. He chanced a glance behind at Harry, but Hermione knew that was his mistake. It was only a millisecond but it was all Harry needed. He was too fast with his Firebolt and flew past Harper. He snatched the snitch, holding the tiny golden ball high in the air.

The Gryffindors howled with applause. Hermione heard a loud roar and turned to see Luna Lovegood, wearing a large, golden lion on her head. Seamus was hugging Neville and Parvati and Lavender were screaming in excitement.

Hermione waited until the crowd died down to make her way to the changing rooms. As pleased as she was about Gryffindor winning—and she _was_ pleased—she still needed to talk to Harry. When he emerged from the changing rooms, she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him off to the side.

"I need to talk to you," she said in a determined voice. "I already told you: Slughorn said that potion was _illegal_ to use during Quidditch matches."

Despite her tone and the seriousness of the situation, Harry was smiling. "Hermione, I didn't do anything," he said.

"I saw you do it Harry!" shouted Hermione, now becoming angry. It didn't matter how important Quidditch was to him. He had broken the rules. And she _saw_ him do it. She saw it with her very own eyes!

"No, you didn't." His grin was infuriating. He reached into his robes and pulled out a tiny bottle full of shimmering gold. "I wanted Ron to think I did it. I knew you were watching and would say something."

Hermione was thunderstruck.

"You mean Ron actually saved everything without luck?" she said in a half whisper.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said a furious voice from behind them. Ron was staring angrily at them both, red and sweaty in the face.

"I didn't mean…" Hermione started, feeling a flush on her own face. "You thought Harry gave it to you too, Ron!"

"Yeah, well, that doesn't really matter now does it?"

"How about we go to the Gryffindor Common Room? I heard Dean and Seamus are throwing a party…" said Harry desperately, trying to blow the heated moment over.

But Hermione was too angry now, too tired of fighting with Ron. "You both can go! Have a lovely time!" she said heatedly, and stormed back to the castle.

She got about halfway there when she decided this afternoon seemed to be a good time to visit Hagrid, having no interest in entering the castle for a couple of hours. She walked alone towards Hagrid's hut, passing the vegetable patch and smelling the sweet air filled with fall leaves.

When she reached the hut, Hermione knocked twice. Hagrid opened the door a second later, beaming at the sight of her.

"Hello Hermione! S'nice to see yeh," he said, moving back so she could come in.

"Hi Hagrid," she greeted happily. "I'm sorry I haven't visited in a while. I've been so busy you know."

"So'kay. I know how busy yer schedule is, and Prefect duties o'course," said Hagrid reproachfully.

"Yes, I would have thought Dumbledore might have been a bit kinder," she said bitterly, thinking, suddenly, about her living arrangements.

Hagrid seemed to interpret her words correctly. His dark eyes softened and he said, "Dumbledore'll have his reasons for puttin' yeh with Malfoy."

She laughed. "I would like to know those reasons."

"Where's Harry an Ron?" asked Hagrid suddenly, looking around as if expecting them to jump out at any moment.

"Oh…they're at Gryffindor Tower, celebrating the match," said Hermione, trying to sound neutral.

If he noticed her detached tone, he did not show it. "O'course. Here, have sum tea."

Hermione smiled as he poured scalding tea into a giant blue mug. She took a sip, allowing the warm cinnamon flavored liquid to heat her insides pleasantly. It was surprisingly tasty, unlike most of his cooking disasters.

She spent the afternoon talking with Hagrid. They talked about school, her parents, the Order, and other miscellaneous things. It felt nice to talk with Hagrid, someone she felt comfortable with and didn't have to censor her thoughts. Hermione had missed him very much since their first visit.

When the sun started to lower in the sky, she bade Hagrid goodbye and set off towards the castle, promising to return soon. It would be close to dinner time and Hermione's stomach had been growling for over an hour.

As she entered the Great Hall, her eyes moved on their own accord and fell toward the Slytherin table. No Malfoy. Maybe he really is sick. Or maybe he's up to no good. With a shake of her head, Hermione put the thought out of her mind and made her way towards Ginny.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading and thank you so much for waiting. I know my updates have been slow, but I really do appreciate your patience. Even though this story is written, I still have to re-read and fix every chapter to make it the best I can for you guys. Takes a while sometimes! lol We will get to the end though. I promise!

Review responses:

**Suzy58: "I think the changes you had made, suited to this chapter perfectly. However you should be careful not to make progression in their realtionship seem too slow. So it wouldn't be like they fall in love in the last chapter or two all of sudden, without any previous real connection between them."** - Thank you! Oh no, I wouldn't do that, no worries! This story is very long actually, and there are plenty of upcoming moments that bring them closer. I just didn't want them to fall too soon. :)

**oiue90999: "WHAT HAPPENED TO CF?! Draco talked differently, Hermione thought it was Harry who gave her the mask, Hermione didn't "snap" at Astoria" **- Haha let me explain those changes. As I was re-reading, I realized Draco would not have bought that mask for Hermione that early in the story. That was OOC. It made more sense that he'd loan her one of his mother's. It's still a small kindness, but it makes more sense for his character, I think. Hermione does snap at Astoria at the ball when she insulted Cedric. Her encounter at the dress shop was a bit more civil in the editted version because well, Hermione isn't a bitch, which a lot of authors paint her out to be. If it's one thing I hate in fanfiction, it's bitchy fits and "mean girls." Hermione gets jealous easily, but in the books I think she deals with that in a silent treatment. Which is why she's ignoring Ron quite a bit now.

**asfd: "There was a particular scene that was originally in this chapter, where Ron rudely asks Hermione "Where have you been?" Something happens between them. But more importantly, Draco stood up for Hermione."** - I liked that scene too, but I think it was too OOC for both Ron and Draco. In the scene, Ron grabs Hermione roughly and I don't think that would happen in canon. And at this stage, I don't think Draco is quite ready to stand up for her. But what's more important to me, and what I changed in the chapter, is that Hermione stands up _for herself_. I think that's more appealing to her character, standing up for herself instead of a man doing it for her. [And it was appealing to Draco, as he gave her a proud look.] Hermione is a very strong, independent woman, and that's something I don't want to ignore with her character.

I've seen many dramione stories tend to fall into the pattern of making Ron out to be a monster that he isn't, and making Draco a knight in shining armor. Both are not true, and I'm trying to avoid doing that, lol. Draco isn't bad, but he doesn't turn into a hero over night. And Ron isn't a monster. He has jealous tendencies, but he's not a bad guy either. :P


	18. The Light in the Dark

**A/N:** Hi guys, I want to apologize for the long delay. Hopefully you've been keeping up with me on my profile page or Tumblr so you knew I hadn't abandoned this story. For those who didn't know, I took a break from this to focus on another story. It's hard for me to focus on two different fandoms at once without getting OOC and mixing up worlds. ATLA and HP are both huge and detailed, not to mention one is written in 3rd past and the other 1st present, so I apologize if I slip in this. :P But I completed that story, so I can work on these updates now. :) Hopefully I can manage every two weeks. Thank you so much for your patience. Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 18 - The Light in the Dark<strong>

On Monday morning Hermione exited Runes and made her way toward Defense Against the Dark Arts. The corridors were crowded with students rushing off to class. A familiar voice floated through the crowd. When Hermione caught up to them, she managed to catch the last bit of Luna explaining the variations of Peruvian puss. Hermione caught Ginny's eye, and she all but burst into laughter at the sight of her expression.

She waved goodbye and made a turn toward Defense Against the Dark Arts. When she arrived, she was a bit surprised to see Harry already here.

"Hi Harry," she said brightly, taking a seat next to him.

He smiled. "Hey, how was Runes?"

"Oh, just fine," she replied. It was the same answer she always answered with when he asked about Runes. "Fine" never prompted more questions.

Soon the other students filed into the room and took their seats. Cloaked in black, Professor Snape was a shadow of darkness as he waited with his arms crossed in the front of the room. There was nothing friendly or welcoming in his face. As Blaise took his seat, Snape closed the door with a swish of his wand. Chatter died and the class fell silent at once, as they always did in his presence. Snape never needed to call for attention.

"We will be spending the entire class on one incantation," he said, quietly and slowly, in that drawing voice of his.

Hermione sat up a little higher in her seat at this announcement. What spell would require so much time? Her fingers itched to flip through her textbook, but she fought the urge down.

"Many of you are aware of the events that took place four years previously," Snape continued. Hermione felt the color drain from her face. Four years ago was in her second year; the year she was petrified. Yes, she remembered all too well. "A basilisk roamed this school and petrified all it came into contact with. There were no deaths, fortunately." It was hard to tell if he was sincere. His tone never changed. "To refresh your memory: to meet a basilisk's stare results in death. To simply see it in reflection results in petrification."

No one, not one professor had brought up the basilisk since second year. It was a subject that was known but never discussed. Until today.

The class was stark still and silent, a heavy tension quickly filling the room. Out of everyone in the classroom, Hermione was the only victim of the attacks. She could practically feel the glances snuck her way. She kept her head high, pretending not to notice.

"This was, however, not the first or only basilisk to roam our world," said Snape. He paced the room, keeping his wand held loosely in his hand. "The basilisks date back to centuries ago, though they are certainly limited in numbers today."

Hermione wondered what basilisks could possibly have to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts. Yes, they were probably one of the most dangerous dark creatures and certainly interesting, but this sounded more like a Care for Magical Creatures class. She also felt wary that more were lurking around in this world. She had encountered one, and that was enough.

"Many years ago, a Russian wizard studying Dark Creatures found and captured a basilisk. Wanting to provide power to his country, he kept the basilisk by conducting studies to find a way to sustain its power. Naturally, killing with sight is impossible for our kind; however, he managed to create a spell."

Snape let the moment draw out, appearing to be enjoying the tension. The entire class was on edge, feeding for more. Even Ron looked interested.

"Does anyone, no doubt Miss Granger, know who this wizard was?" he finally asked, his eyes flicking lazily in her direction.

She furrowed her brows and racked her brains for answers but nothing came. She remembered how difficult it was to locate a book on basilisks in her second year. A trip to the restricted section with a forged note, a tall ladder, a handful of splinters, and many coughs from dusty books later she had found it. But never did she recall reading about a scientist researching basilisks…

"Ivan Kozlov."

Hermione whipped her head around in the direction of the voice.

"Correct, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape impressively. "And what did he do with the information he collected?"

"He created a curse to petrify victims, like a basilisks stare," said Malfoy slowly, articulating each word for effect.

The class began to mutter and stir in their seats. Hermione's hand froze around her quill. Malfoy had to be lying. No curse can do such a thing. She'd know, surely!

"Silence…" hushed Snape. "You are correct again, Mr. Malfoy. Five points to Slytherin. Now—"

"But sir, why petrify someone when you can use a Full Body Bind Curse?" Seamus interrupted.

Snape turned slowly, somehow managing to radiate silent rage and stone coldness at the same time. It was very unwise to interrupt Snape. Everyone knew that. Seamus seemed to regret it himself as he slumped in his seat, his cheeks reddening.

"Who can answer this question?" Snape asked, keeping his eyes on Seamus, who was melting more and more by the second.

Hermione raised her hand, not one hundred percent she was right, but wanting to give it a shot.

Snape looked hopefully at Malfoy, then around the room. No one seemed to know. As if having no other resort, he finally rested his gaze on Hermione. "Very well," he said. "Miss Granger?"

She took a deep breath. "Well, a Full Body-Bind Curse is effective, but it's only temporary and the victim is conscious. Even though their body is paralyzed, they're able to breathe on their own accord, blink, and look around. If this spell is anything like a real petrify from a basilisk, the victim will be unconscious and completely unable to move or think." She shivered at the memory.

The class turned from Hermione to stare at Snape, as if waiting for his confirmation.

"Well?" he drawled impatiently. "Why are you not copying this all down?"

Hermione glanced down, fighting a smug smile. She quickly copied her own words onto the parchment.

"But Miss Granger has left out the most crucial aspect of this curse," said Snape. "As Miss Granger stated, a Full Body-Bind Curse is temporary and the effects will wear off. If you are the victim of the Basilisk's Curse, the original caster must remove it."

"What if they don't?" asked Seamus anxiously. "Or what if the caster dies?"

"Then the victim will remain petrified forever," said Snape with a tone of finality. "Unable to move, feel, speak, or think on your own. You're conscious mind will fade away, leaving you with only an empty shell of your unconscious. You will be hollow, trapped in an empty cell of nothing. You're soul will wonder alone, forever, into the dark abyss. A fate similar to the Dementor's Kiss."

Hermione had dropped her quill. She was so stunned she couldn't even write down what he had said. No one moved or made a sound. A fate similar to the Dementor's Kiss? And this could be performed by a curse? What if…what if You-Know-Who knew of such a thing?

"The curse is ancient, and was shunned from the wizarding world many years ago," said Snape, breaking the tension. "But spells come and go. They fade in and out of popularity and once again, this curse has resurfaced."

Hermione shuddered. Was her worse nightmare true? Who else would do such a thing?

"Shouldn't it be Unforgiveable?" asked Dean.

"When this curse was prohibited by our law, the creation of the spell as well as the principle was copied down in the Ministry Archives of Spell Creation," said Snape. "As the years pressed on, it seems all evidence on such a spell seemed to have disappeared. Accidental or intentional, we do not know. If the original board that prohibits a spell passes on, and the documents are destroyed, the spell is no longer illegal…without proof, you have nothing. It is neither illegal or legal." He paused, and then said, "I believe it is crucial to learn, as it may very well be one of your best offenses. The Headmaster believed otherwise, but in the end, he agreed to allow me to teach you the spell and its counter curse, along with a protective spell that if done correctly, will ward it off. We are at war, and need all the offense we can get. Now, everyone rise."

Hermione wondered briefly how the Ministry would feel about Hogwarts learning such things. Then again, they didn't always have the best judgment these days.

She hesitated a brief second, and then stood up with the rest of the class. She did not want to cast such a thing, but she _never_ wanted to be petrified again. She needed some way to defend against it.

"I don't like the sound of this," Harry muttered quietly.

Hermione didn't either. But they were in a world of peril, and desperate times call for desperate measures. Plus, it wasn't exactly illegal either.

"The Basilisk's Curse is incredibly difficult to master," said Snape. "Before we begin, this spell will be taught to sixth and seventh years only. If any one of you is caught using this spell on another student for _any_ reason, you will be expelled immediately. I have tracked the curse, so I will know if it is used," he threatened. "Do I make myself plain?"

The class nodded and a "yes, sir" echoed in the room.

"We will work only on the counter curse today. It is possible to remove it by someone other than the original caster, but very undoubtful. It requires much power, skill, and determination. I do not expect anyone to succeed; however, since the original caster will not be so inclined to remove the curse, we will aim to remove it ourselves. I will need one volunteer."

The class bristled. Some stared at the floor, others shifted from foot to foot. No one wanted to volunteer to be a guinea pig for Snape's Basilisk's Curse.

"No one? Pity." Snape surveyed the class slowly until his eyes landed on Hermione. "Ah, it only seems appropriate. Miss Granger, would you be so kind?"

Hermione stared at him in horror. He couldn't be serious.

"No!" came an angry shout. She turned, surprised, to find Ron red in the face and clenching his fists.

"Weasley, would you care to volunteer in her place?" asked Snape. His voice was level but his eyes lit with amusement.

Ron opened his mouth and closed it. His face fell and he looked at Hermione, a look of desperation and guilt plastered on his face. He wanted her to understand. She did, but she couldn't say she didn't feel a little hurt too.

"I'll do it," Harry piped up.

"No, Harry," she said to him, placing a hand on his wrist. "You don't have to."

"Its fine, Hermione," he reassured her. "I'll do it, professor," he said again, and stepped forward.

"Ah, of course," Snape said mockingly. "Always saving the day, aren't we Potter?"

Harry didn't rise to the bait. He held his chin high and ready, determination in every line of his body.

"Very well." Snape raised his wand and Harry braced himself. "You won't feel a thing, Potter."

"No!" shouted Hermione, unable to bear it. "You don't have to do everything alone, Harry." She turned to Snape, before she could change her mind. "Petrify me as well."

"What are you doing, Hermione?" Ron asked furiously, moving closer to her.

"I'm not leaving Harry to do this alone," she hissed at him. "Just because you're not brave enough to do it doesn't mean we all aren't."

Ron flinched and his face morphed wildly into desperation. He looked at Snape. "I'll do it too."

"Bloody Gryffindors," someone muttered, and the class started to stir.

"Silence," Snape ordered them. "Mr. Weasley, you will remain here. Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, step forward."

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand. He didn't argue with her or Snape, but he didn't look happy about it. Ron didn't argue either, though she thought he wanted to. It was too late for him to be brave now.

"The counter curse is an old and ancient incantation that took me years to find. You will copy it down," said Snape, and with a swish of his wand, words appeared on the blackboard. Hermione hoped whoever was going to try to bring her back wrote down the incantation thoroughly, or Snape at least left it on the board.

_Ego tribuo thee spiritus of lux lucis, tepidus, quod vita._

"The incantation must be said thrice. It must be said with power, emotion, and determination. If you expect life to return to you, you must give life to the words itself. Potter, you first."

Snape turned his wand on Harry. Hermione gripped his hand tightly; she was shaking. _It's only a class_, she reassured herself. Snape wouldn't let anything serious happen to them. He might be uptight and rude, but he was brilliant with spells and curses. He'd bring them back as soon as their classmates failed. It was just like going to sleep. She'd feel nothing and wake up when it was over.

"_Versteinern!_" Snape shouted, whipping his wand around his head and straight forward. Bright blue-white light slammed into Harry's chest. He went completely stiff and he fell backward, his hand slipping from Hermione's.

Several people screamed, but mostly there was silence. Parvati and Lavender had their hands covering their mouths in terror. Dean and Ron looked sick and Hermione's eyes were in tears. Harry was flat on his back and he was paler than usual and colder…he looked dead. She bent down to touch him.

He was so cold.

She didn't hear the words. She didn't even remember standing back up. One second there was blinding light, and then there was darkness. The last thing she remembered was touching Harry's heart.

It had not been beating.

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><p>Empty. That was what Hermione Granger was. Empty and lifeless and alone.<p>

Her soul began to wander in the dark, searching, searching, for something. There was no wind, no sound—no anything. She couldn't see, couldn't feel, couldn't hear. She just…existed in this dark abyss. She walked and if her feet could bleed, they would have. Time didn't seem to make sense anymore. Some other lost soul was walking her way, but she did not stop. It didn't matter who he was or what he was doing. She kept walking.

Hermione kept going because somewhere, something was waiting for her. Something was out there for her, something was looking for her. She didn't know what, or why, but she knew she had to keep walking.

The air was cold and crisp, numbing her insides even more than they already were. Thick fog covered the ground in a hazy blur as new images came into prospective. Hermione saw something tall stretching into the sky, but what was it? She didn't know; her memory was slowly fading as everything seemed to confuse her.

Suddenly she stopped as a hollow thought occurred to her for the first time. She had been walking so _long_.

What if there was nothing for her…nothing looking for her? Just her, in this big black hole of emptiness. She felt, for the first time, an emotion she recognized: overwhelming doubt. Her chest rippled with fear and her throat dried.

_I am alone, I am alone, I am alone._

With each thought of loneliness, the darkness around her seemed to increase and it kept getting colder, so cold her chest felt like it had frozen.

This was it. She was going to live forever, trapped in this empty hole. She was numb now, completely numb without the faintest idea of self. _Keep walking_ she heard from a distant life. It was a muffled thought, barely a whisper. She obeyed.

"_You can't stop walking," _she heard again, unsure where this source was coming from. The voice seemed to spark a bit of energy.

"_Where to? There's nowhere to go," _she thought in return, her steps slowing down.

"_Do not give up!" _the voice shouted.

Fighting the urge to surrender, Hermione kept walking, listening to the voice. The voice was a sweet melody, tender and soft. It was warm, a pleasant change from the world around her. She would keep walking, to feel the warmth and softness of the voice. The power of it seemed to pull her in a direction, guiding her. She didn't know what it was, or where it was leading to, but she trusted it.

With each passing step, the voice began to fade.

"Don't leave me," Hermione whispered, her voice so faint it could have been inaudible. She didn't want the voice to go. She didn't want to feel the inevitable coldness—she didn't want to be alone here, wherever here was.

Panicked, she turned then, and saw the thing she had been looking for. She'd know even if she didn't. She had finally found it, the light in the dark. A warmth filled her heart and she breathed, feeling the heat spread through her soul. There was the voice again, only it was not in a language she knew. Or maybe she did.

Hermione just knew she needed to be closer, to wrap herself in that warmth. She reached out with both hands, grasping the warm light as it pulled her out of the darkness.

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><p>Her eyes snapped open and her body sprung forward, latching her arms around the warm light. Some distant part of Hermione's mind registered the warmth was too solid to be light, but she did not care. She was warm again, and she was home.<p>

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for reading! I sort of combined part of the next chapter into this one. I think it works better. :) Hope to hear from you guys!

Review Responses:

**lmysers3: "I think the pacing of the story is great-you have managed to perfect the balance between developing romance and keeping the characters acting like themselves."** - Thank you! Going back and editing my original, I realized how much the pacing needed work. I'm hoping this is better this time around. :)

**DestinyCrusader: "Although I haven't been keeping up with Rise of One and I really need to"** - Hehe, The Rise of One is now COMPLETE! Finally. :P

**twoyellowpaths: "And you're still planning on posting Forces of Destiny eventually, right?"** - Yes, I believe so. :) Originally I considered maybe combining the two, but I think I might have to finish FoD because I really liked the idea. :P

**meli101: " I love that you keep it in one point of view, as opposed to switching it around"** - I prefer one POV myself, but there are a few times in this story that require a few more POV's. I will say though that, at least I think, it makes sense for why the view changes. Trust me when I say I would have kept it in one the whole time if I could have.

**Tuitara: "and have you written any Zutara fics because i would definitely read them!"** - Sure have! The Black Games, which is a spin on The Hunger Games, is my most popular. There's also a sequel which is complete, The Rise of One. :)


	19. Truces and Grudges

**A/N:** Yes, I'm alive! Finally graduated college (woo!) and now I have more time to work on my stories. Thanks so much for waiting. The next update will not take as long, I promise. Love you all!

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><p><strong>Chapter 19 - Truces and Grudges<strong>

In…and out.

In….and out.

That was the pattern of Hermione Granger's breathing: constant, repetitive, and most importantly, stable. Her eyes were closed, a calming expression etched onto her face. Her mind drifted somewhere between awake and asleep. It was peaceful, like floating or perhaps lying on the bottom of a pool, submerged deep in water. But it was also a little cold, and Hermione's body ached for warmth.

Slowly, after what felt like an eternity, the warmth came and pulled her from the darkness and cold.

The first thing Hermione became aware of was the ability to hear, as her ears took in the sound of her own steady breathing. Her range expanded, and the sounds around her caused her eye lids to flutter. She could hear hushed and slightly muffled voices—conversations. The cool air rippled the room as a gush of wind slid in through the windows, quiet as a ghost.

That was when Hermione realized the familiar sensation: the feeling of being able to feel again. It was odd, forgetting how to feel. But it came back naturally, as if a distant memory from another life had finally resurfaced. Her eyes peaked open slowly. The blinding light caused her to shrink, if possible, lower into her bed.

Her _bed?_ Why was she in a bed?

Forcing her eyes open, Hermione looked around. Colors and images were blurry, but slowly the faces that surrounded her flushed a memory into her mind as realization started to sink in. Her state of mind was starting to return, along with all of her senses. She knew these people; of course she did. But what were they doing here?

Snape was deep in conversation with Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick. He was not yelling, but Hermione had seen that expression enough times to know when he was furious. Dumbledore had his head bent, listening patiently as Snape whispered angry in his ear. Tiny Professor Flitwick stood on a chair, looking disheveled and worried as Madam Pomfrey arrived with a green bottle full of liquid. She stared at Madam Pomfrey far too long before putting the pieces together.

She was in the hospital wing.

Her eyes left the group of four and traveled around the room, stopping in shock at the sight before her as two people stood only feet away from her bed. Ginny's eyes were puffy and red, as if she had been crying. She looked wildly stressed, her cheeks a faint shade of scarlet and her hair less tame than normal. But what shocked Hermione most was who she was conversing with quietly.

Ginny was talking to Draco Malfoy. And what was more, they didn't appear to be fighting.

Hermione blinked, sure she was dreaming.

Malfoy had his hands in his pockets, his head bowed low as he spoke with Ginny. Hermione strained her ears to hear better, wondering what they could possibly be talking about and even more, why their wands weren't drawn out in a duel. Malfoy's back was to her so she could not read his face, though she imagined it to be the carefully blank mask he had been wearing all year.

After twisting her head slightly to get a better view, Hermione noticed Ron sitting in a chair not far from his sister. His fists were clenched, resting on his knees. He was staring at the ground, his body still as a statue. His left eye was dark and black, swollen, his red hair a mess. It was only then that she realized he was sitting by a bed, a bed occupied by Lavender. She was deep in sleep and had a cut above her right eye that was puffy and swollen. Lying in the bed next to Lavender was Blaise Zabini, who looked unnaturally still as he lay with his right arm propped up in a sling.

_What happened?_ Hermione thought madly. _What's going on?_

She shifted her gaze to the bed next to her and her breath caught in her throat.

"Harry…?" she choked, surprised by the faint softness of her own voice.

The chatter in the room ceased at once as nearly everyone not in a bed rushed to her. She hardly paid any attention. Her eyes were glued to Harry's still form. She stared so long that she was met with a small ray of relief when she noticed he was breathing. _Thank heavens, he's not dead, _she thought.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, bending down and pulling her into a hug, ignoring the protests from Madam Pomfrey.

"Hi," said Hermione weakly. She felt herself smile, and the movement somehow felt both new and foreign, like she had been sleeping for years. What had happened to her?

Ginny let go and Hermione's gaze slid past her friend. Snape still looked angry and Ron was gazing at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. Dumbledore was beaming at her, looking both relieved and overjoyed.

"What's going on?" she finally asked, unable to stand the unknown any longer. Her eyes unwillingly met Malfoy's and he looked away.

Ginny arched a brow. "You don't know?" she asked quietly.

"No, I don't."

"Why can't she remember?" Ginny asked Madam Pomfrey.

"Part of the side effects of such a curse," said Madam Pomfrey. "Keep in mind she has only just awoken. Her memory should return. It may take a few hours or so, but she seems to know where she is and who we are." She smiled at Hermione and then skirted from the room back to her cupboard full of potions.

"Of course I know who everyone is and where I am! But what curse? What's going on and what's wrong with Harry?" Hermione demanded, feeling more and more herself by the minute.

She listened as Dumbledore explained how her Defense Against the Dark Arts class had learned a new curse, how she had volunteered for the counter-curse—in which Dumbledore made very clear how displeased he was that Snape had gone through with this—how the class had erupted into a fight, how Snape had been knocked unconscious, and—and this was the part that truly stopped her breath—that Gryffindor and Slytherin had each lost 100 points for their house.

But as Dumbledore finished the story, Hermione slowly began to remember volunteering, and more frighteningly, the Land of Shadows. Everything seemed to finally make a little more sense. Distantly, still fuzzy like remembering a dream, she could now recall the horrible place her soul had been sent. What surprised her most was that Ron had saved her. Why wouldn't he look at her?

"Miss Granger?" said Dumbledore, and Hermione had the distinct feeling she had zoned out and he had said her name once already.

Hermione looked at him. "Yes?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel…" she muttered, then broke out into a small laugh, staring at her fingers and wriggling them around.

"Something one should never take for granted. A horrible thing to forget," answered Dumbledore, understanding her words.

"It was so awful," she whispered. Then something more pressing occurred to her. "And Harry! How is he?"

"Harry is quite fine," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"He just hasn't woken up yet," said Ginny. "After Professor Flitwick revived Professor Snape, he brought Harry back. But Madam Pomfrey expected you two to both be out for at least a day."

Hermione rubbed her head. It was throbbing uncontrollably.

"Headmaster I must insist," said Madam Pomfrey hastily. "Miss Granger needs to rest."

"Of course, Poppy. Miss Granger, we are certainly pleased to have you back. Severus, Filius, a word if you please," said Dumbledore, before sweeping the wing.

Snape and Flitwick followed, leaving Ginny and Ron at Hermione's bed side.

Hermione glanced around. But wait, where was Malfoy? Hermione didn't see him leave; maybe he left with the other teachers. Ron still hadn't said a word, but kept his gaze on the floor. She turned to face him.

"Ron—" Hermione began.

"I'm so sorry," he said quietly, cutting her off.

"Sorry, for what?"

He looked up with a broken expression she did not understand. "Because it's all my fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"I should have volunteered for you," he said quietly. "And I—I started the fight."

"_You?_" she said, stunned. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned that. "But why?"

"I should go," he said, looking away. "I'm sorry I'm not—I'll see you later." And with that, he left the wing. Hermione stared after him, shocked and slightly angry.

"Hermione," Ginny started.

"One hundred points!" Hermione shouted. "We lost one hundred points and Ron started it! Does he think saving me makes up for that?"

Ginny let her head tilt to the side. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I'm saying even though Ron saved me," said Hermione, "I'm still furious with him."

"But Hermione," said Ginny, shaking her head, "Ron didn't save you."

Hermione looked at her friend sharply. "He didn't?"

"No," Ginny said slowly. "Malfoy did. Malfoy brought you back."

* * *

><p>Hermione struggled to sleep. She tossed and turned all night, and when she finally fell into a deep sleep, the sun had begun to rise. When she finally woke, Hermione had several blissful moments of blankness before reality settled in and she remembered what Ginny had told her. The curse, the counter-curse, and—<p>

_Malfoy_.

Malfoy had brought her back. How could he have broken such an ancient curse? And how had it _worked?_ A shiver ran up her spine that had nothing to do with the chilly air entering the wing through the cracks of the windows. Hermione's gaze shifted to the other side of her bed, where Harry's curtains were pulled around his bed. He still hadn't awoken.

"About time you woke up, Mudblood," a voice grunted. Hermione shot her head sideways and, when she saw who it was, mustered up a nasty glare.

Pansy was sitting up straight in her bed, stirring a warm bowl of soup with a spoon. Hermione inhaled the warm smell of potatoes and cream with a watering mouth and bitterness; she was suddenly _really_ hungry.

"What are you doing in here, Pansy?" she asked, scooting back and shifting into a sitting position.

"What do you think?" Pansy snapped, her eyes flashing. She held up a bandaged arm. "That idiot boyfriend of yours blasted me with a curse."

"He's not _her_ boyfriend!" a new voice shouted. Both Hermione and Pansy turned their attention across the wing to Lavender, who was red faced and slightly swollen under one cheek.

Pansy waved her uninjured hand in annoyance. "Whatever," she said.

"What time is it?" Hermione wondered aloud, deciding it would be best to ignore Lavender.

"Around noon. You snore like a damn hippogriff," said Pansy. "Has anyone ever told you?"

_Oh, you horrible cow! _Hermione thought angrily.

"Would you two keep it down?" snapped Lavender, shifting from side to side in her bed. "I'm trying to sleep here, now that Hermione's awake."

"I do not snore that loud!" Hermione snapped back, her facing blazing red.

"Look Granger, regardless of your snoring there's something I have to say," said Pansy reluctantly.

Hermione shifted to look at her. Surely this was the longest conversation they had ever had, that wasn't _completely_ laced with insults.

"I don't like you or anything but…maybe I was wrong," she said stiffly, forcing out the words. "I shouldn't have constantly reminded you of your unnatural…lineage."

Hermione stared at her. Was Pansy Parkinson apologizing? Surely Hermione hadn't woken up yet. This was probably a dream, a side effect from the potions Madam Pomfrey had given her.

"Are you…apologizing?" Hermione asked, her voice full of skepticism. It was highly unlike her to just apologize for years and years of name calling and torment. Well, if you called _that_ an apology. Unnatural lineage…

Pansy shrugged. "Well, it wasn't my—"

"Pansy!" a furious growl came from the doorway. There Malfoy stood, arms crossed with his eyes on fire. Hermione hadn't even heard him come in. How long was he standing there? "Madam Pomfrey says you can leave."

Pansy sniffed and looked somewhat disappointed. She got up and placed the tray of soup back on the bed. She was to the door when Hermione called out, "Hey Pansy?"

She hesitated, then turned around. "What, Granger?"

"Well, maybe I was wrong for calling you an ignorant cow and embarrassing you when I disarmed you so easily in class," said Hermione. There, that apology was equivalent to the one Pansy had given. And, Hermione _was_ a little sorry. It had been a rotten thing to say. "Truce?" she added.

Pansy's mouth twitched and for a moment, Hermione thought she might laugh or scream at her. But all she did was give a curt nod. Malfoy's expression didn't change and he was on Pansy's heels as she left the wing, giving Hermione no chance to thank him for saving her.

She sighed; he was probably going to ignore her. She sunk back into her bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to Lavender's muffled snores.

Hermione had just made a truce with Pansy Parkinson, of all people. Maybe underneath the prejudice Pansy wasn't _that_ bad. She was a bully and had a superiority problem, but she wasn't a monster. Even Malfoy wasn't as bad as Hermione thought, once she took the time to get to know him. Maybe it was a Slytherin thing.

They weren't about to be friends anytime soon, but a truce with Pansy Parkinson of any sort was possibly the strangest thing that had happened all year. And that was saying something.

Madam Pomfrey finally let Hermione leave two days later, no doubt sick of hearing her complain about falling behind in classes. She had recovered from the curse with her memories intact and felt good as new. It was a relief to be back in classes, but this meant that the entire school finally had the time to bombard her with questions.

The rumors were ridiculous, even more entertaining than what actually happened. The one that really made Hermione laugh—and worry for the sanity of her classmates—were the ones that swore Hermione and Harry had been turned into vampires.

Hermione told what she knew to be the truth. Well, most of it. There were so many false rumors that the truth was passed off as a lie. When the true rumor of Malfoy saving Hermione resurfaced, Hermione said it was a lie, that it had been Flitwick. Those who knew better knew it had been him, didn't correct her either. Maybe it was Malfoy's doing, or maybe they believed he was powerful enough that he could have saved anyone. Either way, going with the lie was Hermione's way of thanking him. She was sure he'd want the anonymity.

She received twenty points, along with Harry, for going through such a complicated ordeal. Harry had awoken hours after Pansy had left the wing, though unlike Hermione, he remembered everything right away. He, too, never wanted to visit the Land of Shadows again and was glad to be free from it. Hermione couldn't help her curiosity, wondering how his "adventure" had gone. But he didn't seem as keen in discussing the Land of Shadows as she was, so she let the subject die begrudgingly. With Harry awake, it meant some of the attention shifted from Hermione and for that she was—albeit apologetically—glad.

* * *

><p>Christmas was approaching quickly as November carried over to December. The grounds were starting to be covered in white, fluffy snow and the air was becoming more dry and cold. Hagrid had begun placing enormous pine trees throughout the castle, lavished in various shades of garlands and tinsel. The castle had been decorated in brilliant shades of scarlet and green, with mistletoe hanging in various corridors. Hermione got a kick out of watching Harry dart through secret passage ways, avoiding flocks of girls that were determined to catch him under the mistletoe.<p>

Hermione and Ron remained distant, with tension and friction between them. Hermione wasn't sure when or how they could get past it. Their relationship was uncomfortable for everyone, but most of all Harry, who remained the middle. For his sake Hermione almost forgave Ron, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Not when he was with Lavender. Not when he lost one hundred points for Gryffindor and didn't volunteer for her.

It was the last day of classes before the holidays, and Hermione made her way toward the bathroom on the fourth floor before meeting Harry. She had promised to meet him early for dinner, passing along her Charm's essay on one condition: he had to swear not to share it with Ron.

Hermione shut the door hastily in one of the stalls when a fit of giggles burst through the door of the bathroom.

"You don't honestly think it will work, do you?"

With a mental grown, Hermione recognized the slightly high pitched voice of Lavender. She kept silent in her stall, hoping to bring no attention to herself.

"Of course it will," came a vaguely familiar voice. Hermione pushed her face toward the crack of the door, trying to catch a glimpse at who the other person was. She knew this voice from somewhere, but couldn't remember from where. All she could see was a heap of wild dark hair. "I got it from a reliable source. You know, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

"Oh! Then of course it will work! Won-Won always speaks so highly of them!" shrilled Lavender. Hermione made a sour face. _Won-Won, really?_ "How did you get it in here, Romilda?"

"Well, they disguise the potions as medications and send them by owl order."

Hermione was now so close to the door her face was pushed up against it. If the door was not locked, she would have fallen straight on her face. Now that Lavender had used the name, Romilda, Hermione immediately remembered: it was the same girl that had come into Ginny's dormitory the night of the Halloween Ball.

And now, this Romilda and Lavender were up to something. Hermione remembered George explaining their Owl Order Service and how they disguise their potions for medications. But what kind of potion would they have gotten from Fred and George? _Nothing good_, she thought bitterly.

"I don't think he's going to fall for it though," said Lavender quietly. "He could of asked someone else already to Slughorn's party."

"No, he hasn't!" Romilda said, a little too quickly. "Anyway, who would refuse a gift of Turkish Delights? By the end of breakfast tomorrow, Harry Potter will be as good as mine," she said smugly.

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth as she realized what Romilda was going to do. She was going to slip Harry a love potion and by the sound of it, in a box of Turkish Delights.

Romilda washed her hands and quickly dried them with her wand. Then, she and Lavender left the bathroom in a fit of giggles.

Hermione waited a moment before opening the door gingerly, still surprised at what she had heard. She shook her head a few times. Honestly, the things some girls would stoop to…

She made her way toward dinner after freshening up in the bathroom. Hermione took a seat on the other side of Harry and pulled out her Charm's essay. With Neville sitting opposite and listening, Hermione didn't know if she should immediately tell Harry what Romilda was up to.

"What took you?" asked Harry, pulling out his own essay over _How to Make a Clock Sing You the Time._

"Well," Hermione hesitated.

"Can I ask you something?" interrupted Harry.

Hermione, a bit taken aback, cleared her throat and nodded. "Of course," she said.

"Why won't you at least hear Ron out?" Before she could respond, or do anything but narrow her eyes, Harry went on, "I know he's stubborn but you know he's sorry. Can't you just talk to him?"

"No," she answered flatly. "If he wants to talk, _he_ can talk to _me_."

Harry, who must know a dead conversation when he sees one, just sighed in defeat. Hermione, annoyed, decided to hold off on Romilda and her love potion. Instead she leaned forward and began filling her plate full of roast beef and vegetables.

"So," she said finally, "who are you taking to Slughorn's party?"

Harry sighed again. "Dunno," he answered. "Haven't really thought about it."

"I doubt that," said Hermione with a snort. "What about Ginny?"

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. "_W-What?_" he spluttered.

"I know she was invited. Is she asking Dean?"

"Wouldn't you know more than me?"

"No, I haven't asked." Hermione took a bite of beef, and then said, "So is she?"

"I assume so…" Harry paused. He was going for calm, but he was buttering his roll too stiffly to be natural. "Why?"

"Just wondering." Hermione shrugged. "You two seemed to have a nice time together at the Halloween Ball."

Harry nodded awkwardly and went back to stuffing his face in a very Ron-like manner. Now it was Hermione's turn to recognize when a conversation was over.

She sighed, glancing around the hall for Ginny. She needed to speak to her about the whole Harry and Dean thing. Unfortunately, she saw Ron and Lavender feeding each other down the table. She held back the urge to vomit and decided she was no longer hungry. She was so nauseated that it took her a moment to recognize the tall, broad boy until he was standing right in front of her.

"Hello Hermione," said Cormac politely.

"Oh, hello Cormac," she said in surprise.

"Potter," he mumbled, a little less friendly.

"McLaggen," answered Harry in the same tone.

"May I sit?" Cormac asked, careful to only address Hermione.

"Of course," she replied as Cormac took a seat, squashing Harry and forcing him to scoot down.

"I'm glad we're going to Sluggy's party together," he said. "I wanted to ask you what time you would like to go? It starts at eight but nobody with importance _actually_ arrives on time," he said arrogantly.

Harry gave Hermione a look and left the table. She wanted nothing more than to follow him when she noticed Ron eyeing her and Cormac with interest. _Well, then._

Hermione let a brilliant smile escape her lips as she began stroking Cormac's golden-blonde hair. Cormac looked taken aback at first, but it didn't last long. His mouth slowly turned up in the corners.

"Oh, I suppose we shouldn't arrive too late. How is half past eight for you?" asked Hermione dreamily, battering her eye lashes like Romilda. She secretly hated herself for stooping to such antics, but two could play this game.

"Brilliant. I'll get you outside your portrait around eight. It's the one with the vampire, correct?"

Hermione nodded once and continued to smile. Her buoyant behavior was interrupted with a hard poke in the back. She whipped her head around and nearly jumped in shock. She decided to mask her surprise with annoyance.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she bit out.

"In case you forgot your duties, we have to patrol the corridors," said Malfoy flatly.

_Oh, crap!_

Hermione dropped her hand. Cormac looked a little put out.

"The corridors aren't going anywhere," he said. Was he pouting?

"No, but Malfoy's right," Hermione admitted reluctantly. "For once," she had to add. He rolled his eyes and started to leave. "I'm supposed to patrol tonight. I nearly forgot. I'll see you tomorrow night."

Heads turned as Hermione followed Malfoy from the Great Hall. _Patrolling!_ She wanted to scream at them. _We're just patrolling the halls!_

It wasn't until they were on their second patrol when Hermione realized this was the first time she had been alone with him in months. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it again. She needed to properly thank him; she just couldn't find the right choice of words. Why was she so anxious?

She had this long string of sentences in her head, but all that came out was a simple "Thank you."

"For saving you from McLaggen?" he asked, as they climbed the spiral staircase.

"No, for…for what happened in Snape's class," she replied. She cast him a nervous glance, but he kept his eyes forward.

Malfoy was silent for a few moments. As they cut through a secret passageway, he finally said, "Snape would have brought you back anyway. You weren't in real harm."

"Well, sooner was better than later. Trust me." She left out a nervous laugh. It really wasn't funny. It was one of those strange moments where a laugh is completely inappropriate, but it slipped out anyway.

Malfoy remained silent as they continued down the corridor. He lifted the tapestry and allowed Hermione to pass. She had a quip on her lips, but he said, "So you and McLaggen?" "He has money, he's talented on a broomstick, he's good looking, and he's a Pureblood," she said lightly, thinking of all the things he makes fun of Ron for. "You know, I thought we weren't talking to each other?"

"We're not," he said factually. "I was just being polite."

"That's funny," she said. "I didn't realize you knew how to be polite."

Malfoy didn't laugh exactly, but Hermione glanced at him just in time to catch his mouth turn up in the corners. She grinned back at him as they continued down the fifth floor.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! I'll be answering review responses soon. Those that read the original know the "flashback" scene of what happened after Hermione and Harry were unconscious was included, but I'm going to post that as extra content. Once I edit it, you'll see it in my drabble fic Rubik's Cube. Seems more fitting to make it bonus content, since this story IS Hermione's and not Draco's. But rest assured, you will be able to read it. :)

Again, I can't thank you guys enough for waiting for this. I know it's frustrating to wait, but I have a lot going on so sometimes my updates are slow. However, this is NOT abandoned and it will be finished eventually. :)

Review Responses:

**dreamer: "Please don't abandoned this story."** - No worries, it's not abandoned! It's just taking me awhile to go through all the files (there are A LOT for this story), edit, re-order certain sections, etc. while also working on another story.

**ChibiChibi: "And considering the fact that I'm just as much a Dramione Shipper as I am a Zutara Shipper, it's really a miracle that I've only now started reading this story!"** - Lol well I'm glad you found it! It makes me happy to know one of my Zutara readers also ships Dramione. :D Glad you like it so far!

**Isabella Rosa: "I've never really gotten into Harry Potter fanfiction, let alone Dramione, and I gotta say I'm sold."** - Wow, that's awesome to hear! I'm so glad you enjoy it. I highly recommend reading Lady Malfoy by cherrypie3601 over at HPFF. It's honestly my favorite fanfiction of all time. (It's Dramione, post Hogwarts)

**Lilyluna: "Here's my question: since you've already finished the story, why does it take so long for you the update?" **- That's a fair question. The thing is, I wrote each chapter as a separate document. I never put the entire story in a single one. I also re-wrote certain chapters, re-edited, added scenes, etc. Like there's a document that says "CF-19" then there's one that says "CF-new19" but maybe I didn't end up using the new one in the final version. Things like that, which make it time consuming to find exactly the right chapter. Let me tell you, this story has tooons of document files in the CF folder, lol. Then once I do find the one I want, I go through and edit, taking out things that don't work, tightening the writing, sometimes combining chapters, making it more in character, etc.

Combine that with finishing college, having a part-time job, coaching middle school basketball, and writing other fics, it takes me awhile, lol. Had I put the whole story together, it probably wouldn't take as long. But I wasn't smart like that, and editing can take awhile too. :P Even though I know many readers were happy with the original, I know it can be better. (I've improved over the years, I'd like to think, lol.) And at the end of the day, a writer has to make themselves happy first. I'm truly trying to make this story even better, so the ending is even more fulfilling. The main points and plot remains the same; I'm just making it more in character and better writing. Hopefully that makes sense.

**Rilla: "you and Erin (cherrypie3601) are one my most favourite"** - Rilla, you're the best! I love Erin's work too. I always recommend Lady Malfoy to everyone, lol. Sorry for such a long wait dear. This one is longer just for you! :)

**LifeForce95: "Any idea how many chapters this fic will total?"** - I'm going to guess 30-36.


	20. Potions and Parties

**A/N:** Hi guys, I'm alive! lol Sorry that took so long. This chapter is kind of short, I know. I was going to combine it with the next one, but I think it works better separately. That means a much quicker update next time though. :D Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 - Potions and Parties<strong>

Those who were not staying at Hogwarts for Christmas had left for the holidays—several students and staff would be catching the train tomorrow. The hassle was because of Slughorn's party this evening. Hermione had walked down to breakfast earlier than usual. Part of it was the excitement of the party, but she had Crookshanks to thank for a poor night's rest.

Ron was forced to stay an extra day since Ginny was invited to the party. Perhaps it was childish, but this sentiment brightened Hermione's mood ever so slightly. Lavender had left for the holidays, and both Harry and Hermione, along with Ginny, would be attending the party without him.

She passed few students through the corridors and gave a sleepy wave to Professor Flitwick, who was busy mending a suit of armor that had a Christmas wreath stuck around its head. When she arrived in the Great Hall, she took a seat at the Gryffindor table. No sooner had she began filling her plate with bacon and eggs did Harry and Ginny arrive—and when Hermione noticed they arrived together, she smiled widely.

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. She took a bite of egg, still smiling.

Harry, suddenly, looked extremely small standing there in a red Weasley jumper. He ran a hand behind his neck and said, "I'm just…going to ask Seamus something."

Ginny was far more casual, and took a seat next to Hermione. She grabbed a piece of toast and started to slather it in butter.

"Well?" demanded Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

"Well what?" Ginny said through a mouthful of toast.

"You know what! Are you going to Slughorn's party with Harry?"

"No." There was a small hint of sadness in Ginny's voice. "I told Dean I'd bring him along. He seems to think Slughorn doesn't like him for some reason…"

"That's too bad," said Hermione, glancing at Harry down the table.

"Which part?"

"Both," said Hermione. She took another bite of eggs as the Great Hall swarmed with the morning post. She glanced up at the owl that landed in front of her and grabbed the prophet from the owl's leg. Then she placed a knut in its pouch and opened the prophet to scan the front page.

"Anything new?" asked Ginny.

Hermione hesitated and re-read the headline twice before speaking, quietly enough not to draw attention. "Mr. Ollivander's missing…"

"_What?_" Ginny nearly choked out.

"It says he was reported missing three days ago after he didn't return from his shop. The Ministry checked for a sign of struggle or attack, but found nothing."

"That can't be good," muttered Ginny.

She shook her head. _No, it can't_, she agreed silently.

The flash of something bright red and shiny caught her eye a few feet away and Hermione glanced up. Harry was tearing open a box in brightly wrapped red paper. It took her a moment to recognize the box: Turkish Delights.

_Turkish…Oh! _

With reflexes of a cat, she shouted "Harry, no!" and dove from her seat toward him, knocking into him so hard he dropped the box.

The Gryffindor table quieted a moment—some stared for far too long—before going back to their conversations and plates of food.

"What was that for?" Harry asked, straightening in his seat. He shot her an exasperated look.

"You can't eat those!"

"Hermione, are you mad?" asked Harry, fighting a laugh while picking up the box.

"No, I'm not!" she shouted again, snatching the box out of his hands. She leaned closer to him and lowered her voice. "Harry, they're spiked with love potion."

His smile slowly faded as he took in Hermione's serious and slightly red face. "What?" he asked hesitantly.

Hermione sighed as she stood and pulled Harry away from curious eyes.

"I overheard Lavender and Romilda Vain—you know, that dark haired girl in Ginny's year?—in the bathroom last night. She said she was going to give you a box of Turkish Delights filled with love potion."

Harry's eyes were wide with shock. "She said that?"

"More or less."

He groaned and sat back down, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. "She's bloody mental. And did you know?" he began, his head perking up. "She's been following me! Trying to corner me under the mistletoe."

"Why don't you just ask someone already!"

"Maybe if I just…"

"No," Hermione told him firmly. "You are not getting out of this, Harry. I already told you Slughorn planned this _around_ your schedule so you could be there."

He groaned again. "I dunno who to ask! It's not like I can ask you or Ginny. And I'm definitely not asking Cho."

Hermione gave him stern look. "Harry, the party's tonight. You need to get a move on."

"I know," he grumbled. Then he sat back and took a long swig of pumpkin juice. Hermione almost felt sorry for him.

Several hours later, she was scurrying through her room, trying to get ready for Slughorn's party. It was nearly fifteen till eight and Cormac would arrive soon. Hermione decided not to wear the same gown she wore for the Halloween Ball, but a sleek black dress she brought from home. It was simple, a light peach knee length dress with a slightly deep v-cut that flared out from her waist. She pulled her curly hair halfway up and added a touch of light make-up.

After securing a pearl necklace around her neck, she stood in the Prefect Common Room, waiting for a knock at the door. It was forty after eight and still no Cormac.

_Of course he's late, _thought Hermione bitterly. To her, it was unacceptable, even if this wasn't exactly a date. The only other Prefect invited was Ernie and he had already left for the party with Hannah, leaving Hermione all alone. She ran her hands over the dress, attempting to smooth out the wrinkles. Waiting was making her fidgety, and she could not decide if she should continue to stand or sit.

She had decided to find a chair—her heels were unbearably uncomfortable—just as the sound of the Hogwarts Crest swinging open made her jump. Malfoy stepped out, wearing a solid black suit that seemed tailored to him perfectly. She didn't even know he was still here, let alone that he was in his room.

"What are you still doing here?" demanded Hermione.

"It's just too hard for you, isn't it?"

She knew she shouldn't take the bait, but she did anyway. "What is?"

"Keeping your nose out of other peoples' business."

"For your information—"

There was a knock at the door, and for a moment both of them froze. Then Hermione gathered her wits and grinned, hoping—despite normal circumstances—that it was Cormac at the door.

"Who's that?" Malfoy said, in the same tone Hermione had used earlier.

"Now whose minding who's business?" she teased, crossing the room to open the door.

Standing there was Cormac McLaggen, wearing platinum robes and shiny black shoes that gave off the impression of a wealthy aristocrat. There was no denying how handsome he looked, and the smile he flashed Hermione made her melt just a little.

Why did he have to be so annoying and rude?

"You look lovely," said Cormac, reaching forward and brushing his lips against her knuckles.

"Well, I certainly had plenty of time to get ready," she muttered under her breath.

Hermione had nearly forgotten Malfoy was still in the room, but when Cormac pulled her forward and the portrait swung shut, she turned just in time to catch him. He had turned around so that all she saw was the back of his head, his hands fisted in his pockets.

Cormac was saying something—well, he had been talking nonstop since they left—and Hermione shook her head to clear it before she said, "Sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked if you saw the Gryffindor Quidditch match against Slytherin," said Cormac. They descended the spiral staircase, heading to Slughorn's office.

"Of course, didn't you thi—"

"The score would have been a larger blow out if I was playing instead of Weasley," interrupted Cormac. "Well, Ron Weasley that is. I've been on a broomstick since I was four years old and my father had…."

Hermione sighed as Cormac droned on and on about Quidditch and himself. This was going to be a long night indeed, no matter how good looking he was.

It took ten minutes to get to sixth floor when it should have taken no more than five. Hermione felt as if she knew so much about Cormac that she could fill an entire column at the _Daily Prophet_. She was astounded how much information one person could dish out about themselves in only ten minutes. She could have sworn he walked extra slow, just to keep talking about himself. A quick thought had entertained her: She could have asked Malfoy instead. At least she got to speak, even if was an insult.

Not all manners were dead to him though, and Cormac opened the door when they arrived at Slughorn's office. Stepping inside, she immediately felt as if she was inside a Christmas shop.

Emerald, scarlet, and gold tapestries draped around the room, and large golden spheres hung from the ceiling and cast a soft glow around the room. Hermione thought Slughorn's office looked quite a bit larger than most of the other teacher's. She wondered if he had transfigured it purposely for the party with a powerful Enlargement Charm. A long golden buffet table lavished with food and colorful bowls of punch sat in the corner. The music the live band was playing was magnified due to the closeness and crowded room and below, tiny house elves maneuvered and squeaked their way through the room carrying silver platters filled with gold goblets. There were more than just students here, too. A swarm of purple smoke surrounded a group of elderly warlocks, and far in the darkest corner of the room where several pale—too pale—and tall figures that distinctly looked like vampires.

It was a relief, Hermione thought, knowing she could easily escape in the crowd.

"Why don't you let Professor Slughorn know were here," she said to Cormac loudly, over the crowd and the music. "I'm going to get some punch and I'll meet you both."

Cormac nodded and began to make his way through the crowded room. Hermione felt guilty only a moment before she took off in the opposite direction, pushing and bumping her way through.

Hermione spent the next twenty minutes ducking through the crowd, searching for her friends. She had been prepared to avoid Cormac the rest of the night, but when she accidently bumped into him, he was deep in conversation with a pair of warlocks. He barely gave her a second glance. He didn't seem to miss her company at all, and for a reason she knew she had no right to, it made Hermione even angrier. She was already upset about the house elves being used for the party, but having a date—a date she didn't even want—ditch her somehow made it all worse.

She was beginning to think she should have just stayed in her room when she heard someone shouting her name. Hermione wheeled around and smiled in relief when a pair of familiar green eyes greeted her.

"Harry, there you are!" she gushed. "Oh and you brought Luna! So glad to see you both."

They were a sight to behold. Harry looked handsome in his plain (but nice) robes, but Luna was glowing in a canary yellow dress. And were those radishes in her ears?

Harry, smiling, glanced over Hermione's shoulder, then settled back to her. "Where's Cormac?"

"Cormac? Oh, he's…" she looked around, as if the answer was in reaching distance. "He's getting some punch."

"Does the punch have red hair?" Harry asked dully. He was staring at something over her shoulder. Reluctantly, she turned and followed his gaze. Cormac was bent over a short redhead from Ravenclaw, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he spoke in her ear.

"Ah." It was all Hermione could say.

"There's Professor Trelawney" said Luna. Hermione was grateful for the interruption into her humiliation. Luna was pointing to a witch dressed in layered shawls and bangles, her eyes magnifying to the size of tennis balls due to her glasses, "…Oh, she looks quite lonely. Should we go say hello?"

Harry opened his mouth, looking torn. He hated being near Trelawney, as she had a knack for predicting his death every time he was around. Hermione thought Divination, a subject closely related to psychic readings and crystal ball gazing, was silly and pointless and Trelawney was an old fraud.

"Well, go on," said Hermione. She gave Harry a little push, knowing he would do the polite thing and stick by his date, even if Luna was just a friend. Harry gave Hermione a sympathetic look as Luna dragged him away.

Standing awkwardly by herself, Hermione saw Professor Slughorn a few feet away, swaying to the music by himself with his eyes shut, a large mead filled goblet in one hand. After a short hesitation, she pushed her way through the crowd toward him. Slughorn was wearing a set of plum robes and matching hat. One of his black buttons had popped off, and the tassels of his hat lay askew.

"Hello Professor Slughorn, thanks for inviting me," said Hermione loudly, hoping he heard her.

Slughorn jumped in surprise, causing a bit of mead to spill over the floor. "Oho! You startled me my dear! You are most certainly welcome Miss Granger. I'm pleased you were able to make it, have you met—"

Slughorn's question was interrupted by the appearance of a man with greasy hair and bulging eyes. It was Argus Filch, and he was not alone.

"Sorry to intrude Professor Slughorn," wheezed Filch, his hand clutching Malfoy by the front of his robes. "This boy was lurking outside the corridor. Claims to be invited but I didn't find him on the list."

Slughorn opened his mouth to speak, but Filch wouldn't let him get a word in. "That'll be worth twenty points for sneaking around, that will," he said. "Maybe a week's worth of detention. The Headmaster won't be pleased…" Judging by his tone, Filch certainly was.

Hermione, who had been staring in shock with an opened mouth, slammed it shut and said, "He was invited." Filch looked at her unbelievably, and on a spur of the moment, she added, "I—I invited him."

Even Malfoy wasn't guarded enough to hide the flash of surprise in his eyes, but he recovered quickly. "I told…_Hermione…_"— he said her first name with difficulty— "that I would be late."

Filch looked murderous. "But…but…" he stuttered.

"I thought…I thought Cormac McLaggen told me you came with him…" mumbled Slughorn, scratching his head in disbelief as he turned to Hermione.

Hermione laughed, somewhere between hysterical and nervous. "No, you must have misunderstood."

"This boy was breaking rules, he was!" shouted Filch, beginning to shake with anger and disappointment. But Slughorn held up a hand.

"No harm done, Argus," he said. "Miss Granger was permitted to bring a guest. Mr. Malfoy is a worthy choice…a worthy choice."

"My family always speaks so highly of you sir," said Malfoy, his voice dripping with admiration. "I believe you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?"

"Yes of course," said Slughorn brightly. "Still an official in the Ministry?"

"Indeed," said Malfoy. "He recently signed a new act I think you might enjoy regarding the Wolfsbane Potion. I will have father send you one of the first copies."

Slughorn beamed and patted Malfoy on the back. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes. A typical Slytherin slithering their way out of trouble.

Filch was still stuttering, red in the face and furious. "Ah come now, Argus," said Slughorn, slapping him on the back. "Let us not interrupt the blooming of young love!"

Hermione tried hard to smile, but her teeth were clenched together as Malfoy placed an arm around her waist. She was about to elbow him in the ribs when, once Slughorn vanished from sight, his arm slide up to grab her arm. He pulled her towards the back of the room with more force than necessary, until they were hidden behind one of the drapes.

"Why did you do that?" he demanded of her.

Hermione crossed her arms. "Is it so hard for you just to thank me?"

"I didn't need your help."

"No, you obviously had the situation handled."

"I did," he snapped.

"Good!" she snapped back. She stormed passed him, got about ten feet away, before whirling back around. "And you know, for a moment before you showed up I actually entertained the thought that maybe I should have asked you to come tonight! Whatever was I thinking?"

Malfoy just stared at her. Then—and she thought she must be imagining it—his expression changed to something like regret. "Granger, I—"

"Mr. Malfoy," a voice cut in. Professor Snape swept passed Hermione and once close enough, grabbed Malfoy by the arm. "I'd like to have a word…Now."

"I thought you might," said Malfoy bitterly. He ripped his arm free and followed Snape from the party, leaving Hermione there, staring after them both in surprise.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, even if it was a little short. One major change is that in the original, Cormac was chasing Hermione all over the place. I liked this version better, with Cormac being the type of person to spend his time talking about himself to anyone who will listen instead of chasing after Hermione all night. :P

Review responses:

**please: "you probably wont read this because it's been 3 years but yours is the best dramione ive ever read! PLEASE continue!"** - No worries hun! I do not plan on abandoning this. Updates are a little slow, but this story will be fully finished. And I think better in quality than the first time I published it.

**Newsie35: "You've done a wonderful job keeping everyone in character as well."** - Thank you so much! In the original, I think the characterizations needed some work. I'm hoping to improve that this time around.

**ann: "i also hate how ron is sometimes seen as a monster as well, so i just love this slow build. I dont like seeing malfoy becoming a love interest so soon in a story" -** YES. I think Malfoy and Hermione fell too quickly the first time I wrote this story (and Ron was not as nice) so I am glad you like the pacing of how it's written now. :D


	21. The Dark Knight

**A/N:** Yikes, this is late and a bit shorter than the others, for that I apologize. As I was editing this chapter, I noticed a lot of sentences that didn't need to be there because they didn't really add to the story. I couldn't really combine this chapter with the next one, so unfortunately it's just a short update. With that said, I'll make a point to update the next chapter before I update anything else. :) Thanks for your patience and sticking with the story!

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><p><strong>Chapter 21 - The Dark Knight<strong>

Hermione sat alone at breakfast the next morning, a hand lazily dragging her spoon across her cereal, letting the milk soak deeper into the flakes. Her stomach growled, but her mind was too distracted from last night's party to bother eating more than a few bites. Not even the apple biscuits held her attention today.

What had Snape wanted with Malfoy? And why was Malfoy trying to sneak into Slughorn's party to begin with? It was odd behavior, even for him. Malfoy was proud, too proud to bother sneaking into a party he wasn't invited to. Hermione didn't know why this made her so curious. She supposed they were friends now—well, not exactly _friends_, but certainly not enemies. And it was reasonable to be curious about your kind-of-friend-but-no-longer-enemy, right?

Hermione glanced up at the nearly empty Gryffindor table. Harry and the Weasley's were personally picked up by Mr. Weasley early this morning—extra security for Harry, Hermione guessed. Already, she was missing her friends; even Ron, whom she was still angry with. It was going to be a long holiday without them.

_Ron_.

Thinking of him only made Hermione think of Lavender. Where was Lavender when they battled Fluffy and the chess board? Where was she when they chased Sirius Black across the grounds? Or last year, when they battled Death Eaters at the Ministry? Not by Ron's side, not where she's plastered now.

_I sound—no, I'm not jealous_, Hermione thought bitterly, but she knew it was a lie. She _was_ jealous, wasn't she? What she didn't know was what she was jealous _about_. Was it jealousy over Lavender herself? Over their relationship? Maybe the fact that they had each other, that Ron had somebody and it wasn't her? Or that they both had someone in general and she didn't? Hermione didn't want to sort through it, to figure out the root of that jealousy. She had time for that someday, but not today.

She had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays. Her parents had written to her at the beginning of the year, saying they were visiting Paris for Christmas. As much as Hermione wanted to join them, she decided to let them visit alone. Her parents hardly took vacations and Paris was the romance capital of the world. If anyone deserved a romantic treat, it was them, even at her expense.

Hermione usually didn't mind staying at Hogwarts for the holidays. She had done so in previous years, but this year she was going to be utterly alone. With her close friends already gone, the only Prefect staying at school to her knowledge was Ernie. There was the odd case of Malfoy, but maybe that's what Snape wanted? Did Malfoy miss his train?

With Ernie, at least they could study or work together on Snape's ridiculously long essay over recognizing the differences between werewolves and shapeshifters. Snape always gave a long assignment over the holidays. Lucky for her, she had started on it already.

Hermione looked down and grimaced at her breakfast. She had twirled it so much it appeared to be a bowl of dog food. She quickly pushed it aside and grabbed a piece of toast, nibbling on the crunchy edges slowly. There was a familiar morning _whoosh_ and her eyes shot up. The owls were delivering mail, even though there were not many students to receive them. An oversized barn owl stopped abruptly in front of Hermione and held up its leg. She untied the letter and opened it.

_ Hermione,_

_ We are sad you won't be joining us for Christmas. We're in Paris! And missing you terribly! Your father is hoping for a white Christmas, but it hasn't snowed yet. Maybe we will get lucky on Christmas Day. We will send your gifts on Christmas Eve. It is so strange how an owl always seems to come on Christmas Eve the years you are at Hogwarts for Christmas. Like magic!_

_ How are your classes? How are things with Ginny, Harry, and Ron? We have not heard much from you recently. Take care and Happy Christmas dear! We love you very much and hope to hear from you soon._

_ Love,_

_ Mum and Dad_

Hermione smiled and wrote her reply, adding as many details as she could think of. Her mum was right. She had been so busy lately that her recent letters were lacking in depth. Scraping quill against parchment always made her swell with purpose and joy, and she spent a good while writing back. When she finished, she tied the letter back to the owl and watched it fly out of the hall.

Shortly after, she began to walk back to her Common Room, wondering what she was going to do for the day. Read further into her books, perhaps. Unfortunately, Madam Pince was closing the library two hours earlier than usual, not to mention closing it on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year's Day. By the time Hermione stepped through the Hogwarts Crest, she was feeling even more deflated.

She came to an abrupt halt, her breath catching in her throat as her eyes landed on the boy in front of her. Malfoy glanced up, sitting in an armchair by the fireplace in their Common Room. His face was paler than usual. Was he ill?

"You look like you've seen a ghost," said Malfoy.

Hermione blinked, snapping out of her reverie. "Why are you still here?" she asked.

"As if it's any of your business," he said, "I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

"Why?"

"Why are you asking?"

"Why are you not answering?"

He raised a brow, but made no move to actually give her any real answers. Hermione threw up her hands. Why was he so frustrating all the time? "Fine, don't tell me," she said, and she stormed out of the Common Room.

She didn't know where she was going, only that she wanted to put distance between herself and that prat. So Hermione left Vladimir's portrait in a rush, descending the stairs two at a time. In her haste, she almost missed it, but a swift glance out one of the windows made her halt. And do a double take.

Something, _several_ something's, were running—no, _galloping_ across the grounds. Hermione squinted her eyes, pressing her nose against the too cold glass. She tried to make out the distinct figures, but they were far away and the snow coming down made it too difficult as they darted into the Forbidden Forest.

The Forbidden Forest was near Hagrid's hut. Maybe they were his creatures.

But what if they weren't?

Out of Gryffindor instinct and without much rational thought, Hermione bolted down the spiral staircases toward the clock tower. The doors to the courtyard were unlocked and she pushed them open. Wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck, she shivered as fat snowflakes snowed down around her. She sprinted across the long wooden bridge, which thankfully wasn't too icy.

She could see her own breath as she trudged down the stone steps that lead to Hagrid's. A warmly lit hut indicated he was home, smoke coming up from the chimney. Her boots sank into the snow with each step, causing her to move slower than she would have liked. She paused, considered hiding behind one of the large rocks and sending a patronus to warn him, but in that moment a horrifying noise caught her attention. It was howling. And they were too close for comfort.

Hermione froze completely and pulled out her wand, trying to see any threat through the falling snow. "_Lumos_," she muttered, hoping the light would help.

It did.

Crouched on all fours by the edge of the Forbidden Forest were four wolves that were too large to be called wolves.

Hermione felt a sharp intake of breath as her mind worked quickly. She could scream, maybe Hagrid would hear, or she could take her chances and run back to the bridge. Her mind was also going through a list of jinxes and hexes that might penetrate the large beasts', maybe stun them enough for her to escape.

The moon above was shimmering brightly, casting a sparkling glow to the snow, as if mocking her. Hermione had a flashback to third year and knew immediately these were not wolves at all; they were werewolves. A _pack_ of werewolves. On the grounds of Hogwarts!

And she was not equipped to take on four werewolves on her own.

Every wolf had yellow eyes and ivory bared teeth. Their fur was frazzled with dissolving snowflakes and Hermione noticed several patches were missing from some of the wolves, as if they had been in a fight with their own kind. Their bodies looked a bit thinner than what Hermione remembered reading about and certainly thinner than Professor Lupin had been. By the look in their savage eyes and their lean stature, they were quite hungry.

Hermione gripped her wand tightly, and as frightened as she was, she held her chin up. Her heart was pounding as she waited for their attack.

But then their snarling stopped. The two brown wolves in the center spread apart, allowing a much larger, black werewolf to step into the middle, emerging from the forest.

Hermione gasped loudly, stumbling backward a step. This beast stood on two legs, towering over them almost like…like a _human_. Its narrow snout was dripping with blood, and its bright yellow eyes glowed with excitement at the sight of their new prey.

For one horrifying moment, Hermione didn't know what to do.

She made up her mind quickly, sensing their impatience as they started to pace back and forth, jaws snapping. Hermione flicked her wand and shouted, "_Stupefy!"_

The spell hit one of the wolves. Hermione bolted up and ran for her life, fleeing toward the forest. It wasn't much of a plan, and the snow slowed her down, but at least the trees made a better cover than the open grounds of Hogwarts and the too far away bridge. Hermione sent more stunning spells over her shoulder—a loud thud told her one must have hit its target. She glanced backward as she ran into the trees, and noticed the wolves splitting up, their snarls ripping through the silent forest. Hermione knew this was how they hunted—she had written about it in Snape's essay. Oh, the irony!—circling their prey until it was cornered and trapped.

Hermione ran through the trees, the cool wind stinging her face. She had to work twice as hard to trudge through the snow. She needed to run, to keep running, despite the cramp in her side, and find a tree suitable to climb.

The pain increased and she stopped abruptly, catching her breath and clutching her right side. In the brief second she had paused, the large black wolf lunged at her from behind a tree, grasping the bottom of her cloak in its mouth and smacking her foot with its enormous paw. Hermione screamed as she fell backward onto the snowy forest floor.

The wolf shook its head violently, attempting to shred her robes to bits. Hermione kicked with her other foot with all her might, and hit the breast square in the face. She stumbled up quickly as the wolf was distracted, whimpering in pain.

Frantically she glanced around, noticing her wand a few feet away. She must have dropped it when she fell to the ground. She lunged at her wand, ignoring the pain in her left ankle. She felt the tiny stick in her fingers when a sudden blow to the stomach sent her flying in the air, knocking her into a tree.

The initial impact nearly knocked her out and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

Hermione coughed hard, spitting up blood onto a pile of frozen leaves that lay on the snow. She was crouched under the tree, her wand grasped in her hand. She looked up and saw three wolves slowly moving her way, snarling, trapping her against the tree. The big black wolf was in the center, his lips drizzled with fresh blood…_her_ blood.

The pain in her left ankle was almost unbearable now. She knew her chances of standing were slim; running would be impossible. Her ankle was burning so badly it might have been on fire if it wasn't wading in snow. The pain was starting to make Hermione dizzy. The wolves were starting to blur together. She had no energy left to cast a spell. Her lip was throbbing, she was so cold, and her ankle was beyond aching.

She had to try. She would not die here, not freezing and cowering at their feet. She would not be another meal. Hermione raised her wand.

"_R-R-Reducto…"_ she said weakly, aiming for the black wolf. Her wand gave a tiny spark, but nothing came out. She tried again, attempting to gain strength. "_Stupefy…"_

The wolves continued to slowly stalk her way, as if they knew she was weakening by the second. For a fleeting moment, she wished they'd stop toying with her and just get on with it.

Her lip quivered. _Please help me, _she thought desperately_. Someone, please help me! _

Hermione felt a burst of cold wind ripple her hair and body. She glanced up, noticing the wolves sniffing the air at the sudden wind storm. The freezing wind increased, and her scarf flew off. The wolves made whimpering sounds and started to back away, as if the wind hurt them as much as it did her. All but the black wolf, who fell on all fours and endured it.

As her eyes left the wolves momentarily, they rested on something Hermione never thought she'd see outside of Hogwarts.

Lying by her feet was the Hogwarts sorting hat. Hermione just stared. She felt a burst of hope as she remembered Harry in the Chamber of Secrets; how he had told her that the hat had come to his aid. But she didn't know what to do and she was so cold, all she could manage was shaking the hat wildly and thinking: _Please…I need help._

The hat glowed dimly in the darkness of the forest, and Hermione reached inside instinctively. She pulled out what looked like a black orb made of glass. What…what was it? She couldn't focus, she couldn't think. She didn't know if the wolves were retreating, if the biting wind was too much for them to endure. Her eyes were shut and she leaned forward, gripping the orb as if it were a portkey. Maybe it was, maybe it was just her own wishful thinking, but she thought it anyway.

_Take me somewhere safe._

It was the last conscious thought she had before the world started to spin and a bright, white light blinded her. She felt the sensation that she was lifted from the snow and the wind carried her away—and then she was slammed into a wall.

"What the—Granger!" a familiar voice shouted. "Alfred, stop!"

Hermione forced her eyes opened and blinked. It took her a moment to realize the wind was not biting, and she was not cowering in the snow. She was not outside at all. She was in a large carriage of red velvet, sitting across from none other than Draco Malfoy.

Her head was still spinning, her ankle was on fire, and she could taste the blood from her lip in her mouth. Moments ago she was in the forest facing death by a pack of ravenous werewolves, and now she was sitting in a carriage with Draco Malfoy.

She did the only thing she could do in that moment. She screamed, a frantic sort of sound that quickly turned into choking sobs. She was hysterical.

Hermione finally stopped when a pair of strong hands gripped her shoulders and shook her.

"Granger, stop! What….how the bloody hell did you apparate into here?" The alarm in Malfoy's voice caught her off guard. His eyes roamed over her quickly, his mouth slightly open in shock.

Apparate? Is that what she did?

"What happened to you?" Malfoy asked, his voice oddly quiet. He couldn't seem to stop staring at her ankle.

Hermione didn't know. She was so confused and in such pain, all she managed was a whimper as the carriage door opened and a tiny, old man stepped in.

Before she could see who it was, he and Malfoy began to swarm out of focus. She fought to hold on, even as the old man was asking her a question, but she was too tired and too weak. Her body fell forward; Malfoy caught her in his arms. Her eyes fluttered shut as she began to drift to unconsciousness, finally away from the wolves and finally safe. The irony did not escape her, even in her state.

In the arms of Draco Malfoy, she was safe.

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><p><strong>AN:** Thanks for reading! The next chapter was originally in Malfoy's POV, but I haven't decided if I'll do that or make it a bonus scene and continue from when Hermione wakes up. :P We'll see. I'll be updating with review responses soon!


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